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GOBLIN MP¥Kn 

and other poems 
by Cliriflma Rofietti 



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BOSTON,R0BEBTS BROS. 



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POEMS 



BY 



CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 




BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1866. 






AUTHOR'S EDITION. 



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2(D'Qr 




THIRD THOUSAND. 




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University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 




Cambridge. 



3 



THE AUTHOR TO HER AMERICAN 
READERS. 

My little book seems scarcely to admit of prefatory 
words : either it will speak for itself, or all my additions 
must fail to speak for it. 

Its reappearance, however, in an American edition, 
gives me a welcome opportunity of acknowledging the 
courtesy and liberality of Messrs. Roberts Brothers, who 
have arranged with me and with my kind friend and 
publisher, Mr. Macmillan, to bring it before the Amer- 
ican public. 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 

London, May, 1866. 



CONTENTS. 



GOBLIN MARKET, ETC. 

Pagb 

Goblin Market 3 

In the Round Tower at Jhansi, June 8, 1857 . 23 

Dream-Land 24 

At Home 25 

A Triad 26 

Love from the North 27 

Winter Rain 29 

Cousin Kate 30 

Noble Sisters 32 

Spring 34 

The Lambs of Grasmere, i860 36 

A Birthday 37 

Remember 38 

After Death 39 

An End , . .40 

My Dream 41 

Song 43 

The Hour and the Ghost 43 

A Summer Wish 46 

An Apple Gathering 47 

Song 48 

Maude Clare 49 

Echo 51 

My Secret 52 



viii CONTENTS. 

Another Spring ' • 53 

A Peal of Bells 54 

Fata Morgana 55 

"No, thank you, John" 56" 

May 57 

A Pause of Thought 58 

Twilight Calm 59 

Wife to Husband 61 

Three Seasons 63 

Mirage 63 

Shut out 64 

Sound Sleep 65 

Song . 66 

Song 67 

Dead before Death 68 

Bitter for Sweet 68 

Sister Maude 69 

Rest 70 

The First Spring Day 70 

The Convent Threshold 71 

Up-Hill 77 



DEVOTIONAL PIECES. 

" The Love of Christ which passeth Knowledge " 81 
" A BRUISED Reed shall he not break " . . .82 

A Better Resurrection 83 

Advent 84 

The Three Enemies . . ■ 87 

The One Certainty 89 

Christian and Jew 90 

Sweet Death 93 

Symbols 94 

"Consider the Lilies of the Field" . . -95 
The World 96 



CONTENTS. ix 

A Testimony 97 

Sleep at Sea loo 

From House to Home 103 

Old and New Year Ditties 113 

/ Amen 115 

THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS, ETC. 

, The Prince's Progress 119 

' Maiden-Song 140 

Jessie Cameron 148 

SPxiiNG Quiet 153 

The Poor Ghost 154 

A Portrait 156 

Dream-Love 157 

Twice 160 

V Songs in a Cornfield 162 

A Year's Windfalls 166 

The Queen of Hearts 170 

One Day 171 

A Bird's-Eye View 172 

Light Love . 176 



A Dream 



[79 



A Ring Posy 180 

Beauty is Vain 181 

Lady Maggie . 182 

What would I give 184 

The Bourne 185 

Summer 185 

Autumn 187 

The Ghost's Petition 189 

Memory 193 

A Royal Princess 195 

Shall I Forget 202 

Vanity of Vanities 203 



X CONTENTS. 

L. E. L 204 

Life and Death 206 

Bird or Beast 207 

Eve . t 208 

Grown and Flown 211 

A Farm Walk 212 

Somewhere or other 215 

A Chill 216 

Child's Talk in April 217 

Gone forever 219 

Under the Rose 220 

DEVOTIONAL PIECES. 

Despised and Rejected 243 

Long Barren 245 

If only 246 

Dost thou not care 247 ( 

Weary in Well-doing 248 j 

Martyrs' Song 249, 

After this the Judgment 252' 

Good Friday 255 

The Lowest Place 256 



GOBLIN MARKET, 



MORNING and evening 
Maids heard the goblins cry ; 
" Come buy our orchard fruits, 
Come buy, come buy : 
Apples and quinces. 
Lemons and oranges, 
Plump unpecked cherries, 
Melons and raspberries. 
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches. 
Swart-headed mulberries. 
Wild free-born cranberries. 
Crab-apples, dewberries. 
Pine-apples, blackberries. 
Apricots, strawberries ; — 
All ripe together 
In summer weather, — 
!Morns that pass by. 
Fair eves that fly; 
Come buy, come buy : 
• Our grapes fresh from the vine. 
Pomegranates full and fine. 
Dates and sharp bullaces. 
Rare pears and greengages, 



GOBLIN MARKET. 

Damsons and bilberries, 

Taste them and try : 

Currants and gooseberries, 

Bright-fire-like barberries. 

Figs to fill your mouth, 

Citrons from the South, 

Sweet to tongue and sound to eye; 

Come buy, come buy." 

Evening by evening 
Among the brookside rushes, 
Laura bowed her head to hear, 
Lizzie veiled her blushes : 
Crouching close together 
In the cooling weather, 
With clasping arms and cautioning lips. 
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips. 
" Lie close," Laura said, 
Pricking up her golden head : 
" We must not look at goblin men, 
We must not buy their fruits : 
Who knows upon what soil they fed 
Their hungry thirsty roots ? " 
" Come buy," call the goblins 
Hobbling down the glen. 
" O," cried Lizzie, " Laura, Laura, 
You should not peep at goblin men." 
Lizzie covered up her eyes. 
Covered close lest they should look; 
Laura reared her glossy head. 



GOBLIN MARKET. 

And whispered like the restless brook : 

"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie, 

Down the glen tramp little men. 

One hauls a basket, 

One bears a plate. 

One lugs a golden dish 

Of many pounds' weight. 

How fair the vine must grow 

Whose grapes are so luscious; 

How warm the wind must blow 

Through those fruit bushes." 

"No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no; 

Their offers should not charm us, * 

Their evil gifts would harm us." 

She thrust a dimpled finger 

In each ear, shut eyes and ran : 

Curious Laura chose to linger 

Wondering at each merchant man. 

One had a cat's face, 

One whisked a tail, 

One tramped at a rat's pace, 

One crawled like a snail, 

One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry, 

One like a ratel tumbled hurr}^-scurry. 

She heard a voice like voice of doves 

Cooing all together : 

They sounded kind and full of loves 

In the pleasant weather. 

Laura stretched her gleaming neck 



GOBLIN MARKET. 

Like a rush-imbedded swan, 
Like a lily from the beck, 
Like a moonUt poplar branch, 
Like a vessel at the launch 
When its last restraint is gone. 

« 

Backwards up the mossy glen 
Turned and trooped the goblin men. 
With their shrill repeated cry, 
" Come buy, come buy." 
When they reached where Laura was 
They stood stock still upon the moss, 
Leering at each other. 
Brother with queer brother ; 
Signalling each other. 
Brother with sly brother. 
One set his basket down, 
One reared his plate ; 
One began to weave a crown 
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown 
(Men sell not such in any town) ; 
One heaved the golden weight 
Of dish and fruit to offer her: 
" Come buy, come buy," was still their cry. 
Laura stared but did not stir, 
Longed but had no money : 
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste, 
In tones as smooth as honey. 
The cat-faced purred. 
The rat-paced spoke a word 



GOBLIN MARKET. 7 

Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard j 
One parrot-voiced and jolly- 
Cried " Pretty Goblin " still for " Pretty Polly " ; •— 
One whistled like a bird. 

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste : 
" Good folk, I have no coin; 
To take were to purloin : 
I have no copper in my purse, 
I have no silver either, 
And all my gold is on the furze 
That shakes in windy weather 
Above the rusty heather." 
" You have much gold upon your head," 
They answered altogether : 
" Buy from us with a golden curl." 
She clipped a precious golden lock. 
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl. 
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red : 
Sweeter than honey from the rock. 
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, 
Clearer than water flowed that juice; 
She never tasted such before, 
How should it cloy with length of use ? 
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more 
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore ; 
She sucked until her lips were sore ; 
Then flung the emptied rinds away. 
But gathered up one kernel stone. 
And knew not was it night or day 
As she turned home alone. 



GOBLIN MARKET. 

Lizzie met her at the gate 
Full of wise upbraidings : 
" Dear, you should not stay so late, 
Twilight is not good for maidens ; 
Should not loiter in the glen 
In the haunts of goblin men. 
Do you not remember Jeanie, 
How she met them in the moonlight, 
Took their gifts both choice and many, 
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers 
Plucked from bowers 
Where summer ripens at all hours ? 
But ever in the noonlight 
She pined and pined away; 
Sought them by night and day, 
Found them no more but dwindled and grew gray ; 
Then fell with the first snow, 
While to this day no grass will grow 
Where she lies low : 
I planted daisies there a year ago 
That never blow. 
You should not loiter so." 
" Nay, hush," said Laura : 
" Nay, hush, my sister : 
I ate and ate my fill. 
Yet my mouth waters still ; 
To-morrow night I will 
Buy more," — and kissed her. 
" Have done with sorrow ; 
I '11 bring you plums to-morrow 



GOBLIN MARKET, 9 

Fresh on their mother twigs, 

Cherries worth getting; 

You cannot think what figs 

My teeth have met in, 

What melons icy-cold 

Piled on a dish of gold 

Too huge for me to hold, 

What peaches with a velvet nap, 

Pellucid grapes without one seed : 

Odorous indeed must be the mead 

Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink. 

With lilies at the brink. 

And sugar-sweet their sap." 



Golden head by golden head, 
Like two pigeons in one nest 
Folded in each other's wings, 
They lay down in their curtained bed : 
Like two blossoms on one stem, 
Like two flakes of new-fallen snow, 
Like two wands of ivory 
Tipped with gold for awful kings. 
Moon and stars gazed in at them. 
Wind sang to them lullaby, 
Lumbering owls forbore to fly. 
Not a bat flapped to and fro 
Round their rest : 

Cheek to cheek and breast to breast 
Locked together in one nest. 



10 GOBLIN MARKET. 

Early in the morning 
When the first cock crowed his warning, 
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy, 
Laura rose with Lizzie : 
Fetched in honey, milked the cows, 
Aired and set to rights the house, 
Kneaded cakes of ^whitest wheat. 
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat, 
Next churned butter, whipped up cream, 
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed j 
Talked as modest maidens should : 
Lizzie with an open heart, 
Laura in an absent dream. 
One content, one sick in part \ 
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight. 
One longing for the night. 

At length slow evening came : 
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook ; 
Lizzie most placid in her look, 
Laura most like a leaping flame. 
They drew the gurgling water from its deep ; 
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags. 
Then turning homeward said : "The sunset flushes 
Those furthest loftiest crags ; 
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags. 
No wilful squirrel wags. 
The beasts and birds are fast asleep." 
But Laura loitered still among the rushes 
And said the bank was steep. 



GOBLIN MARKET. n 

And said the hour was early still, 
The dew not fallen, the wind not chill : 
Listening ever, but not catching 
The customary cr}^, 
" Come buy, come buy," 
With its iterated jingle 
Of sugar-baited words : 
Nor for all her watching 
Once discerning even one goblin 
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling ; 
Let alone the herds 
That used to tramp along the glen, 
In groups or single. 
Of brisk fruit-merchant men. 

Till Lizzie urged : " O Laura, come ; 
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look : 
You should not loiter longer at this brook : 
Come with me home. 
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc. 
Each glow-worm winks her spark. 
Let us get home before the night grows dark ; 
For clouds may gather 
Though this is summer weather, 
Put out the lights and drench us through ; 
Then if we lost our way what should we do 1 " 

Laura turned cold as stone 
To find her sister heard that cry alone, 
That goblin cry, 



12 GOBLIN MARKET. 

" Come buy our fruits, come buy." 
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruits ? 
Must she no more such succous pasture find. 
Gone deaf and bUnd ? 
Her tree of Hfe drooped from the root : 
'^ She said not one word in her heart's sore ache ; 
But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning, 
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way ; 
So crept to bed, and lay 
Silent till Lizzie slept ; 
Then sat up in a passionate yearning, 
And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept 
As if her heart would break. 

Day after day, night after night, 
Laura kept watch in vain, 
In sullen silence of exceeding pain. 
She never caught again the goblin cry : 
" Come buy, come buy " \ — 
She never spied the goblin men 
Hawking their fruits along the glen : 
But when the noon waxed bright 
Her hair grew thin and gray ; 
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn 
To swift decay, and burn 
Her fire away. 

One day remembering her kernel-stone 
She set it by a wall that faced the south ; 
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root. 



J 



f 



GOBLIN MARKET, 13 

AVatched for a waxing shoot, 

But there came none \ 

It never saw the sun, 

It never felt the trickhng moisture run : 

While with sunk eyes and faded mouth 

She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees * 

False waves in desert drouth 

With shade of leaf-crowned trees, 

And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze. 

She no more swept the house, 
Tended the fowls or cows, 
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat, 
Brought water from the brook : 
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook 
And would not eat. 

Tender Lizzie could not bear 
To watch her sister's cankerous care 
Yet not to share. 
She night and morning 
Caught the goblins' cry : 
" Come buy our orchard fruits. 
Come buy, come buy." 
Beside the brook, along the glen. 
She heard the tramp of goblin men. 
The voice and stir 
Poor Laura could not hear ; 
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her, 
But feared to pay too dear. 



14 GOBLIN MARKET. 

She thought of Jeanie in her grave, 

Who should have been a bride ; 

But who for joys brides hope to have 

Fell sick and died 

In her gay prime, 

In earliest winter-time, 

AVith the first glazing rime. 

With the first snow-fall of crisp winter-time. 

Till Laura, dwindling, 
Seemed knocking at Death's door : 
Then Lizzie weighed no more 
Better and worse, 

But put a silver penny in her purse. 
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze 
At twilight, halted by the brook j 
And for the first time in her Hfe 
Began to listen and look. 

Laughed every goblin 
When they spied her peeping : 
Came towards her hobbling, 
Flying, running, leaping, 
Puffing and blowing, 
Chuckling, clapping, crowing, 
Clucking and gobbling, 
Mopping and mowing, 
Full of airs and graces, 
Pulling wry faces. 
Demure grimaces, 



GOBLIN MARKET. 15 

Cat-like and rat-like, 
Ratel and wombat-like, 
Snail-paced in a hurry, 
Parrot-voiced and whistler, 
Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry, 
Chattering like magpies, 
Fluttering like pigeons, 
Gliding like fishes, — 
Hugged her and kissed her ; 
Squeezed and caressed her \ 
Stretched up their dishes, 
Panniers and plates : 
" Look at our apples 
Russet and dun, 
Bob at our cherries, 
Bite at our peaches, 
Citrons and dates, 
Grapes for the asking, 
Pears red with basking 
Out in the sun, 
Plums on their twigs ; 
Pluck them and suck them, 
Pomegranates, figs." 

" Good folk," said Lizzie, 
Mindful of Jeanie, 
" Give me much and many"; — 
Held out her apron, 
Tossed them her penny. 
" Nay, take a seat with us, 



i6 GOBLIN MARKET. 

Honor and eat with us," 

They answered grinning : 

" Our feast is but beginning. 

Night yet is early, 

Warm and dew-pearly, 

Wakeful and starry : 

Such fruits as these 

No man can carry ; 

Half their bloom would fly, 

Half their dew would dry. 

Half their flavor would pass by. 

Sit down and feast with us, 

Be welcome guest with us. 

Cheer you and rest with us." 

" Thank you," said Lizzie ; "but one waits 

At home alone for me : 

So, without further parleying. 

If you will not sell me any 

Of your fruits though much and many, 

Give me back my silver penny 

I tossed you for a fee." 

They began to scratch their pates, 

No longer wagging, purring, 

But visibly demurring, 

Grunting and snarling. 

One called her proud. 

Cross-grained, uncivil ; 

Their tones waxed loud, 

Their looks were evil. 

Lashing their tails 



GOBLIN MARKET. 17 

They trod and hustled her, 

Elbowed and jostled her, 

Clawed with their nails. 

Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking, 

Tore her gown and soiled her stocking, 

Twitched her hair out by the roots. 

Stamped upon her tender feet. 

Held her hands and squeezed their fruits 

Against her mouth to make her eat. 

White and golden Lizzie stood, 
Like a lily in a flood, — 
Like a rock of blue-veined stone 
Lashed by tides obstreperously, — 
Like a beacon left alone 
In a hoary roaring sea. 
Sending up a golden fire, — 
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree 
White with blossoms honey-sweet 
Sore beset by wasp and bee, — 
Like a royal virgin town 
Topped with gilded dome and spire 
Close beleaguered by a fleet 
Mad to tug her standard down. 

One may lead a horse to water, 
Twenty cannot make him drink. 
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her, 
Coaxed and fought her, 
Bullied and besought her. 



i8 GOBLIN MARKET. 

Scratched her, pinched her black as ink, 

Kicked and knocked her, 

Mauled and mocked her, 

Lizzie uttered not a word ; 

Would not open lip from lip 

Lest they should cram a mouthful in ; 

But laughed in heart to feel the drip 

Of juice that syrupped all her face, 

And lodged in dimples of her chin, 

And streaked her neck which quaked like curd. 

At last the evil people 

Worn out by her resistance 

Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit 

Along whichever road they took, 

Not leaving root or stone or shoot. 

Some writhed into the ground. 

Some dived into the brook 

With ring and ripple. 

Some scudded on the gale without a sound 

Some vanished in the distance. 

In a smart, ache, tingle, 
Lizzie went her way ; 
Knew not was it night or day ; 
Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze, 
. Threaded copse and dingle. 
And heard her penny jingle, 
Bouncing in her purse, — 
Its bounce was music to her ear. 
She ran and ran 



GOBLIN MARKET. 19 

As if she feared some goblin man 

Dogged her with gibe or curse 

Or something worse : 

But not one gobhn skurried after, 

Nor was she pricked by fear ; 

The kind heart made her windy-paced 

That urged her home quite out of breath with haste 

And inward laughter. 

She cried " Laura," up the garden, 
" Did you miss me ? 
Come and kiss me. 
Never mind my bruises, 
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices 
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you. 
Goblin pulp and goblin dew. 
Eat me, drink me, love me ; 
Laura, make much of me : 
For your sake I have braved the glen 
And had to do with goblin merchant men." 

Laura started from her chair. 
Flung her arms up in the air, 
Clutched her hair : 
" Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted 
For my sake the fruit forbidden "i 
Must your light like mine be hidden, 
Your young life like mine be wasted, 
Undone in mine undoing 
And ruined in my ruin. 



20 GOBLIN MARKET, 

Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden ? " 

She clung about her sister, 

Kissed and kissed and kissed her: »• 

Tears once again 

Refreshed her shrunken eyes, 

Dropping like rain 

After long sultry drouth j 

•Shaking with aguish fear, and pain, 

She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth. 

Her lips began to scorch, 
That juice was wormwood to her tongue, 
She loathed the feast : 

Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung, 
Rent all her robe, and wrung 
Her hands in lamentable haste, 
And beat her breast. 
Her locks streamed like the torch 
Borne by a racer at full speed. 
Or like the mane of horses in their flight. 
Or like an eagle when she stems the light 
Straight toward the sun, 
Or like a caged thing freed. 
Or like a flying flag when armies run. 

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her 
heart, 
Met the fire smouldering there 
And overbore its lesser flame ; 
She gorged on bitterness without a name : ( 



GOBLIN MARKET, 21 

Ah ! fool, to choose such part 

Of soul-consuming care ! 

Sense failed in the mortal strife : 

Like the watch-tower of a town 

Which an earthquake shatters down, 

Like a lightning-stricken mast. 

Like a wind-uprooted tree 

Spun about, 

Like a foam-topped water-spout 

Cast down headlong in the sea, 

She fell at last; 

Pleasure past and anguish past, 

Is it death or is it life ? 

Life out of death. 
That night long Lizzie watched by her, 
Counted her pulse's flagging stir. 
Felt for her breath, 

Held water to her lips, and cooled her face 
With tears and fanning leaves : 
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves. 
And early reapers plodded to the place 
Of golden sheaves, . 
And dew-wet grass 

Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass, 
And new buds with new day 
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream, 
Laura awoke as from a dream. 
Laughed in the innocent old way. 
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice ; 



2 GOBLIN MARKET. 

Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of gray, 
Her breath was sweet as May, 
And light danced in her eyes. 

Days, weeks, months, years 
Afterwards, when both were wives 
With children of their own ; 
Their mother-hearts beset with fears. 
Their lives bound up in tender lives ; 
Laura would call the little ones 
And tell them of her early prime, 
Those pleasant days long gone 
Of not-returning time : 
Would talk about the haunted glen, 
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men, 
Their fruits like honey to the throat. 
But poison in the blood ; 
(Men sell not such in any town ;) 
Would tell them how her sister stood 
In deadly peril to do hftr good, 
And win the fiery antidote : 
Then joining hands to little hands 
Would bid them cling together, 
" For there is no friend like a sister, 
In calm or stormy weather. 
To cheer one on the tedious way, 
To fetch one if one goes astray. 
To lift one if one totters down, 
To strengthen whilst one stands." 



IN THE ROUND TOWER AT JHANSI, 23 

IN THE ROUND TOWER AT JHANSI, 

June, S, 1S57. 

A HUNDRED, a thousand to one ; even so ; 
Not a hope in the world remained : 
The swarming, howling wretches below 
Gained and gained and gained. 

Skene looked at his pale young wife : — 

"Is the time come ? " — " The time is come ! " — 

Young, strong, and so full of life : 
The agony struck them dumb. 

Close his arm about her now, 

Close her cheek to his. 
Close the pistol to her brow — 

God forgive them this ! 

" Will it hurt much ? " — " No, mine own : 
I wish I could bear the pang for both." 

" I wish I could bear the pang alone : 
Courage, dear, I am not loath." 

Kiss and kiss : " It is not pain 

Thus to kiss and die. 
One kiss more." — " And yet one again." — 

"Good by." — "Good by." 



24 DREAM-LAND. 



DREAM-LAND. 



WHERE sunless rivers weep 
Their waves into the deep, 
She sleeps a charmed sleep : 

Awake her not. 
Led by a single star, 
She came from very far 
"To seek where shadows are 
Her pleasant lot. 

She left the rosy morn, 
She left the fields of corn. 
For twilight cold and lorn 

And water springs. 
Through sleep, as through a veil, 
She sees the sky look pale. 
And hears the nightingale 

That sadly sings. 

Rest, rest, a perfect rest 
Shed over brow and breast ; 
Her face is toward the west. 

The purple land. 
She cannot see the grain 
Ripening on hill and plain; 
She cannot fe^l the rain 

Upon her hanu. 



AT HOME. 25 

Rest, rest, forevermore 
Upon a mossy shore \ 
Rest, rest at the heart's core 

Till time shall cease : 
Sleep that no pain shall wake, 
Night that no morn shall break, 
Till joy shall overtake 

Her perfect peace. 



AT HOME. 

WHEN I was dead, my spirit turned 
To seek the much-frequented house 
I passed the door, and saw my friends 

Feasting beneath green orange-boughs ; 
From hand to hand they pushed the wine, 

They sucked the pulp of plum and peach ; 
They sang, they jested, and they laughed. 
For each was loved of each. 

I listened to their honest chat : 

Said one : " To-morrow we shall be 
Plod plod along the featureless sands. 

And coasting miles and miles of sea." 
Said one : " Before the turn of tide 

We will achieve the eyrie-seat." 
Said one : "To-morrow shall be like 

To-day, but much more sweet." 



26 A TRIAD. 

" To-morrow," said they, strong with hope, 

And dwelt upon the pleasant way : 
" To-morrow," cried they, one and all, 

AVhile no one spoke of yesterday. 
Their life stood full at blessed noon ; 

I, only I, had passed away : 
" To-morrow and to-day," they cried j. 

I was of yesterday. 

I shivered comfortless, but cast 

No chill across the table-cloth ; 
I, all forgotten, shivered, sad 

To stay, and yet to part how loath : 
I passed from the familiar room, 

I who from love had passed away, 
Like the remembrance of a guest 

That tarrieth but a day. 



A TRIAD. 
SONNET. 

THREE sang of love together : one with lips 
Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in a glow, 
Flushed to the yellow hair and finger-tips ; 

And one there sang who, soft and smooth as snow, 
Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at a show ; 
And one was blue with famine after love, 

Who, like a harp-string snapped, rang harsh and low 
The burden of what those were singing of 



LOVE FROM THE NORTH. 27 

One shamed herself in love ; one temperately 
Grew gross in soulless love, a sluggish wife ; 

One famished, died for love. Thus two of three 
Took death for love and won him after strife ; 

One droned in sweetness like a fattened bee : 
All on the threshold, yet all short of life. 



LOVE FROM THE NORTH. 

I HAD a love in soft south land. 
Beloved through April far in May ; 
He waited on my lightest breath, 
And never dared to say me nay. 

He saddened if my cheer was sad. 

But gay he grew if I was gay ; 
We never differed on a hair. 

My yes his yes, my nay his nay. 

The wedding hour was come, the aisles 

Were flushed with sun and flowers that day; 

I pacing balanced in my thoughts, — 
"It 's quite too late to think of nay." — 

My bridegroom answered in his turn, 
Myself had almost answered " yea " : 

When through the flashing nave I heard 
A struggle and resounding " nay." 



28 LOVE FROM THE NORTH. 

Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear, 
But I stood high who stood at bay : 

" And if I answer yea, fair Sir, 

AVhat man art thou to bar with nay?" 

He was a strong man from the north, 

Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray 

" Put yea by for another time 

In which I will not say thee nay." 

He took me in his strong white arms. 
He bore me on his horse away 

O'er crag, morass, and hair-breadth pass. 
But never asked me yea or nay. 

He made me fast with book and bell, 
With links of love he makes me stay \ 

Till now I Ve neither heart nor power 
Nor will nor wish to say him nay. 



WINTER RAIN. 29 



WINTER RAIN. 

EVERY valley drinks, 
Every dell and hollow : 
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks, 
Green of Spring will follow. 

Yet a lapse of weeks, 

Buds will burst their edges, 
Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks. 

In the woods and hedges ; 

Weave a bower of love 

For birds to meet each other, 

Weave a canopy above 
Nest and ^gg and mother. 

But for fattening rain 

We should have no flowers, 
Never a bud or leaf again 

But for soaking showers ; 

Never a mated bird 

In the rocking tree-tops, 
Never indeed a flock or herd 

To graze upon the lea-crops. 

Lambs so woolly white. 

Sheep the sun-bright leas on. 



30 COUSIN KATE. 

They could have no grass to bite 
But for rain in season. 

We should find no moss 
In the shadiest places, 

Find no waving meadow-grass 
Pied with broad-eyed daisies ; 

But miles of barren sand, 

With never a son or daughter, 

Not a lily on the land, 
Or lily on the water. 



COUSIN KATE. 

I WAS a cottage maiden 
Hardened by sun and air, 
Contented with my cottage mates, 

Not mindful I was fair. 
Why did a great lord find me out, 

And praise my flaxen hair ? 
Why did a great lord find me out 
To fill my heart with care 1 

He lured me to his palace home — 
Woe 's me for joy thereof — 

To lead a shameless shameful life, 
His plaything and his love. 



COUSIN KATE, 31 

He wore me like a silken knot, 

He changed me like a glove ; 
So now I moan, an unclean thing. 

Who might have been a dove. 

O Lady Kate, my cousin Kate, 

You grew more fair than I : 
He saw you at your father's gate. 

Chose you, and cast me by. 
He watched your steps along the lane, 

Your work among the rye ; 
He lifted you from mean estate 

To sit with him on high. 

Because you were so good and pure 

He bound you with his ring : 
The neighbors call you good and pure. 

Call me an outcast thing. 
Even so I sit and howl in dust. 

You sit in gold and sing : 
Now which of us has tenderer heart ? 

You had the stronger wing. 

cousin Kate, my love was true. 
Your love was writ in sand : 

If he had fooled not me but you, 

If you stood where I stand. 
He 'd not have won me with his love 

Nor bought me with his land ; 

1 would have spit into his face 
And not have taken his hand. 



32 NOBLE SISTERS. 

Yet I 've a gift you have not got, 

And seem not like to get : 
For all your clothes and wedding-ring 

I 've little doubt you fret. 
My fair-haired son, my shame, my pride, 

Cling closer, closer yet : 
Your father would give lands for one 

To wear his coronet. 



NOBLE SISTERS. 

" IV T OW did you mark a falcon, 

1 \l Sister dear, sister dear. 
Flying toward my window 

In the morning cool and clear ? 
With jingling bells about her neck. 

But what beneath her wing ? 
It may have been a ribbon. 

Or it may have been a ring." — 
" I marked a falcon swooping 

At the break of day : 
And for your love, my sister dove, 
I 'frayed the thief away." — 

" Or did you spy a ruddy hound, 

Sister fair and tall. 
Went snuffing round my garden bound, 

Or crouched by my bower wall ? 



33 



NOBLE SISTERS. 

With a silken leash about his neck ; 

But in his mouth may be 
A chain of gold and silver links, 
Or a letter writ to me." — 

" I heard a hound, high-born sister. 

Stood baying at the moon : 
I rose and drove him from your wall 
Lest you should wake too soon." — 

" Or did you meet a pretty page 

Sat swinging on the gate ; 
Sat whistling, whistling hke a bird, 

Or may be slept too late : 
With eaglets broidered on his cap, 

And eaglets on his glove ? 
If you had turned his pockets out, 

You had found some pledge of love." — 
" I met him at this daybreak. 

Scarce the east was red : 
Lest the creaking gate should anger you, 
I packed him home to bed." — 

" O patience, sister. Did you see 

i\ young man tall and strong. 
Swift-footed to uphold the right 

And to uproot the wrong, 
Come home across the desolate sea 

To woo me for his wife ? 
And in his heart my heart is locked, 

And in his life my hfe." — 



34 ' SPRhYG. 

" I met a nameless man, sister, 
Hard by your chamber door : 

I said : Her husband loves her much. 
And yet she loves him more." — 

" Fie, sister, fie, a wicked lie, 

A lie, a wicked lie, 
I have none other love but him. 

Nor will have till I die. 
And you have turned him from our door. 

And stabbed him with a lie : 
I will go seek him thro' the world 
In sorrow till I die." — 

" Go seek in sorrow, sister, 
And find in sorrow too : 
If thus you shame our father's name 
My curse go forth with you." — 



SPRING. 

FROST-LOCKED all the winter, 
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits, 
What shall make their sap ascend 
That they may put forth shoots ? 
Tips of tender green. 
Leaf, or blade, or sheath j 
Telling of the hidden life 
That breaks forth underneath. 
Life nursed in its grave by Death. 



SPRIA'G. 35 

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly, 
Drips the soaking rain, 
By fits looks down the waking sun : 
Young grass springs on the plain ; 
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees ; 
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits, 
Swollen with sap, put forth their shoots ; 
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane ; 
Birds sing and pair again. 

There is no time like Spring, 

When life 's alive in everything, — 

Before new nestlings sing, 

Before cleft swallows speed their journey back 

Along the trackless track, — 

God guides their wing, 

He spreads their table that they nothing lack, — 

Before the daisy grows a corngnon flower. 

Before the sun has power 

To scorch the world up in his noontide hour. 

There is no time like Spring, 

Like Spring that passes by ; 

There is no life like Spring-life born to die, — 

Piercing the sod. 

Clothing the uncouth clod. 

Hatched in the nest. 

Fledged on the windy bough. 

Strong on the wing : 

There is no time hke Spring that passes by. 

Now newly born, and now 

Hastenins: to die. 



36 THE LAMBS OF GRASMERE. 



THE LAMBS OF GRASMERE, i860. 

THE upland flocks grew starved and thinned : 
Their shepherds scarce could feed the lambs 
Whose milkless mothers butted them, 

Or who were orphaned of their dams. 
The lambs athirst for mother's milk 

Filled all the place with piteous sounds : 
Their mothers' bones made white for miles 
The pastureless wet pasture grounds. 

Day after day, night after night. 

From lamb to lamb the shepherds went, 
With teapots for the bleating mouths 

Instead of nature's nourishment. 
The little shivering gaping things 

Soon knew the step that brought them aid, 
And fondled the protecting hand. 

And rubbed it with a woolly head. 

Then, as the days waxed on to weeks. 

It was a pretty sight to see 
These lambs with frisky heads and tails 

Skipping and leaping on the lea, 
Bleating in tender, trustful tones, 

Resting on rocky crag or mound. 
And following the beloved feet 

That once had sought for them and found. 



A BIRTHDAY, • yj 

These very shepherds of their flocks, 

These loving lambs so meek to please, 
Are worthy of recording words 

And honor in their due degrees : 
So I might live a hundred years, 

And roam from strand to foreign strand, 
Yet not forget this flooded spring 

And scarce-saved lambs of Westmoreland. 



A BIRTHDAY. 

MY heart is like a singing bird 
Whose nest is in a watered shoot; 
My heart is like an apple-tree 

Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit j 
My heart is like a rainbow shell 

That paddles in a halcyon sea ; 
My heart is gladder than all these 
Because my love is come to me. 

Raise me a dais of silk and down ; 

Hang it with vair and purple dyes ; 
Carve it in doves, and pomegranates, 

And peacocks with a hundred eyes ; 
Work it in gold and silver grapes. 

In leaves, and silver fleurs-de-lys ; 
Because the birthday of my life 

Is come, my love is come to me. 



38 REMEMBER, 



REMEMBER. 

SONNET. 

REMEMBER me when I am gone away, 
Gone far away into the silent land ; 
When you can no more hold me by the hand, 

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. 

Remember me when no more, day by day, 
You tell me of our future that you planned : 
Only remember me ; you understand 

It will be late to counsel then or pray. 

Yet if you should forget me for a while 
And afterwards remember, do not grieve : 
For if the darkness and corruption leave 
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 

Better by far you should forget and smile 
Than that you should remember and be sad. 



AFTER DEATH. 39 



AFTER DEATH. 

SONNET. 

THE curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept 
And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may 
Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, 
Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept. 
He leaned above me, thinking that I slept 

And could not hear him; but I heard him say : 
" Poor child, poor child " : and as he turned away 
Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. 
He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold 
That hid my face, or take my hand in his, 
Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head : 
He did not love me living ; but once dead 
He pitied me ; and very sweet it is 
To know he still is warm though I am cold. 



40 ■ AN END, 



AN END. 

LOVE, strong as Death, is dead. 
Come, let us make his bed 
Among the dying flowers : 
A green turf at his head ; 
And a stone at his feet, 
Whereon we may sit 
In the quiet evening hours. 

He was born in the Spring, 
And died before the harvesting : 
On the last warm summer day 
He left us ; he would not stay 
For autumn twilight, cold and gray. 
Sit we by his grave, and sing 
He is gone away. 
To few chords and sad and low 
Sing we so : 

Be our eyes fixed on the grass 
Shadow-veiled as the years pass, 
While we think of all that was 
In the long ago. 



H 



MV DREAM, 41 



MY DREAM. 

EAR now a curious dream I dreamed last night, 
Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth. 



I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled 
Like overflowing Jordan in its youth : 
It waxed and colored sensibly to sight ; 
Till out of myriad pregnant waves there welled 
Young crocodiles, a gaunt blunt-featured crew, 
Fresh-hatched perhaps and daubed with birthday dew. 
The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend. 
My closest friend, would deem the facts untrue ; 
And therefore it were wisely left untold ; 
Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end. 

Each crocodile was girt with massive gold 
And polished stones, that with their wearers grew : 
But one there was who waxed beyond the rest, 
Wore kinglier girdle and a kingly crown, 
Whilst crowns and orbs and sceptres starred his breast. 
All gleamed compact and green with scale on scale. 
But special burnishment adorned his mail. 
And special terror weighed upon his frown ; 
His punier brethren quaked before his tail, 
Broad as a rafter, potent as a flail. 
So he grew lord and master of his kin : 



42 MY DREAM. 

But who shall tell the tale of all their woes ? 

An execrable appetite arose, 

He battened on them, crunched, and sucked them in. 

He knew no law, he feared no binding law, 

But ground them with inexorable jaw : 

The luscious fat distilled upon his chin, 

Exuded from his nostrils and his eyes. 

While still like hungry death he fed his maw ; 

Till every minor crocodile being dead 

And buried too, himself gorged to the full. 

He slept with breath oppressed and unstrung claw. 

marvel passing strange which next I saw : 
In sleep he dwindled to the common size. 
And all the empire faded from his coat. 
Then from far off a winged vessel came, 
Swift as a swallow, subtle as a flame : 

1 know not what it bore of freight or host, 
But white it was as an avenging ghost. 

It levelled strong Euphrates in its course ; 

Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote 

It seemed to tame the waters without force 

Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat : 

Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands, 

The prudent crocodile rose on his feet 

And shed appropriate tears and wrung his hands. 

What can it mean ? you ask. I answer not 
For meaning, but myself must echo. What ? 
And tell it as I saw it on the spot. 



THE HOUR AND THE GHOST. 43 



SONG. 

O ROSES for the flush of youth, 
And laurel for the perfect prime ; 
But pluck an ivy branch for me 
Grown ojd before my time. 

O violets for the grave of youth, 

And bay for those dead in their prime ; 

Give me the withered leaves I chose 
Before in the old time. 



THE HOUR AND THE GHOST. 



OLOVE, love, hold me fast, — 
He draws me away from thee j 
I cannot stem the blast. 
Nor the cold strong sea ; 
Far away a light shines 
Beyond the hills and pines ; 
It is lit for me. 

BRIDEGROOM. 

I have thee close, my dear. 

No terror can come near ; 

Only far off the northern light shines clear. 



44 THE HOUR AND THE GHOST. 

GHOST. 

Come with me, fair and false, 

To our home, come home. 

It is my voice that calls : 

Once thou wast not afraid 

When I wooed, and said, 

" Come, our nest is newly made," — 

Now cross the tossing foam. 

BRIDE. 

Hold me one moment longer. 
He taunts me with the past. 
His clutch is waxing stronger, 
Hold me fast, hold me fast. 
He draws me from thy heart, 
And I cannot withhold : 
He bids my spirit depart 
With him into the cold : — • 

bitter vows of old ! 

BRIDEGROOM. 

Lean on me, hide thine eyes : 
Only ourselves, earth and skies, 
Are present "here : be wise. 

GHOST. 

Lean on me, come away, 

1 will guide and steady : 
Come, for I will not stay : 

Come, for house and bed are ready. 



THE HOUR AND THE GHOST. 45 

Ah, sure bed and house, 
For better and worse, for Ufe and death : 
Goal won with shortened breath : 
Come, crown our vows. 

BRIDE. 

One moment, one more word, 
While my heart beats still, 
While my breath is stirred 
By my fainting will. 
O friend forsake me not, 
Forget not as I forgot : 
But keep thy heart for me, 
Keep thy faith true and bright ; 
Through the lone cold winter night 
Perhaps I may come to thee. 

BRIDEGROOM. 

Nay, peace, my darling, peace : 

Let these dreams and terrors cease : 

Who spoke of death or change or aught but ease ? 

GHOST. 

O fair frail sin, 

poor harvest gathered in ! 
Thou shalt visit him again 

To watch his heart grow cold \ 
To know the gnawing pain 

1 knew of old ; 

To see one much more fair 



46 A SUMMER WISH. 

Fill up the vacant chair, 

Fill his heart, his children bear : 

While thou and I together 

In the outcast weather 

Toss and howl and spin. 



A SUMMER WISH. 

LIVE all thy sweet life thro', 
Sweet Rose, dew-sprent, 
Drop down thine evening dew 
To gather it anew 
When day is bright : 

I fancy thou wast meant 
Chiefly to give delight. 

Sing in the silent sky, 

Glad soaring bird ; 
Sing out thy notes on high 
To sunbeam straying by 
Or passing cloud ; 

Heedless if thou' art heard 
Sing thy full song aloud. 

O that it were with me 
As with the flower ; 
Blooming on its own tree 
For butterfly and bee 



AN APPLE GATHERING. 47 

Its summer morns : 

That I might bloom mine hour 
A rose in spite of thorns. 

O that my work were done 

As birds' that soar 
Rejoicing in the sun : 
That when my time is run 
And dayhght too, 

I so might rest once more 
Cool with refreshing dew. 



AN APPLE GATHERING. 

I PLUCKED pink blossoms from mine apple-tree, 
And wore them all that evening in my hair : 
Then in due season when I went to see 
I found no apples there. 

With dangling basket all along the grass 

As I had come I went the selfsame track : 
My neighbors mocked me while they saw me pass 
So empty-handed back. 

Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by, 

Their heaped-up basket teased me like a jeer; 
Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky. 
Their mother's home was near. 



48 SONG. 

Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full, 

A stronger hand than hers helped it along ; 
A voice talked with her through the shadows cool 
More sweet to me than song. 

Ah, Willie, Willie, was my love less worth 

Than apples with their green leaves piled above ? 
I counted rosiest apples on the earth 
Of far less worth than love. 

So once it was with me you stooped to talk 
Laughing and listening in this very lane : 
To think that by this way we used to walk 
We shall not walk again ! 

I let my neighbors pass me, ones and twos 

And groups ; the latest said the night grew chill, 
And hastened : but I loitered, while the dews 
Fell fast I loitered still. 



SONG. 

TWO doves upon the selfsame branch, 
Two lilies on a single stem. 
Two butterflies upon one flower : — 
O happy they who look on them. 

Who look upon them hand in hand 
Flushed in the rosy summer light ; 

Who look upon them hand in hand 
And never give a thought to night. 



MAUDE CLARE. 49 



MAUDE CLARE. 

OUT of the church she followed them 
With a lofty step and mien : 
His bride was like a village maid, 
Maude Clare was like a queen. 

" Son Thomas," his lady mother said, 
With smiles, almost with tears : 

" May Nell and you but live as true 
As we have done for years ; 

" Your father thirty years ago 

Had just your tale to tell; 
But he was not so pale as you. 

Nor I so pale as Nell." 

My lord was pale wdth inward strife, 
And Nell was pale with pride \ 

My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare 
Or ever he kissed the bride. 

" Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord. 
Have brought my gift," she said : 

" To bless the hearth, to bless the board. 
To bless the marriage-bed. 



so MAUDE CLARE. 

" Here 's my half of the golden chain 
You wore about your neck, 

That day we waded ankle-deep 
For lilies in the beck : 



" Here 's my half of the faded leaves 
We plucked from budding bough, 

With feet amongst the lily-leaves, — 
The liUes are budding now." 

He strove to match her scorn with scorn. 

He faltered in his place : 
" Lady," he said, — " Maude Clare," he said, 

" Maude Clare " : — and hid his face. 

She turned to Nell : " My Lady Nell, 

I have a gift for you ; 
Though, were it fruit, the bloom were gone, 

Or, were it flowers, the dew. 

" Take my share of a fickle heart, 

Mine of a paltry love : 
Take it or leave it as you will, 

I wash my hands thereof." 

" And what you leave," said Nell, " I '11 take, 
And what you spurn, I '11 wear ; 

For he 's my lord for better and worse, 
And him I love, Maude Clare. 



ECHO. 51 

" Yea, though you 're taller by the head, 

More wise, and much more fair ; 
I '11 love him till he loves me best, 

Me best of all, Maude Clare.'^ 



ECHO. 

COME to me in the silence of the night ; 
Come in the speaking silence of a dream ; 
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright 
As sunlight on a stream ; 
Come back in tears, 
O memory, hope, love of finished years. 

O dream how sweet, too sweet; too bitter sweet, 
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, 

Where souls brimful of love abide and meet ; 
Where thirsting longing eyes 
Watch the slow door 

That opening, letting in, lets out no more. 

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live 
My very life again though cold in death : 

Come back to me in dreams, that I may give 
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath : 
Speak low, lean low, 

As long ago, my love, how long ago ! 

D 



52 MV SECRET, 



MY SECRET. 

I TELL my secret ? No indeed, not I : 
Perhaps some dayj who knows ? 
But not to-day ; it froze, and blows, and snows, 
And you 're too curious : fie ! 
You want to hear it ? well : 
Only, my secret 's mine, and I won't tell. 

Or, after all, perhaps there 's none : 
Suppose there is no secret after all, 
But only just my fun. 
To-day 's a nipping day, a biting day ; 
In which one wants a shawl, 
A veil, a cloak, and other wraps : 
I cannot ope to every one who taps. 
And let the draughts come whistling through my hall \ 
Come bounding and surrounding* me. 
Come buffeting, astounding me, 
Nipping and clipping through my wraps and all. 
I wear my mask for warmth : who ever shows 
His nose to Russian snows 
To be pecked at by every wind that blows ? 
You would not peck ? I thank you for good-will. 
Believe, but leave that truth untested still. 

Spring 's an expansive time : yet I don't trust 
March with its peck of dust, 



ANOTHER SPRING. 53 

Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers. 

Nor even May, whose flowers 

One frost may wither through the sunless hours. 

Perhaps some languid summer day, 
.When drowsy birds sing less and less, 
And golden fruit is ripening to excess, 
If there 's not too much sun nor too much cloud, 
And the warm wind is neither still nor loud. 
Perhaps my secret I may say, 
Or you may guess. 



ANOTHER SPRING. 

IF I might see another Spring 
I 'd not plant summer flowers and wait 
I 'd have my crocuses at once, 
My leafless pink mezereons, 

My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer yet 
My white or azure violet. 
Leaf-nested primrose ; anything 
To blow at once not late. 

If I might see another Spring 

I 'd listen to the daylight birds 
That build their nests and pair and sing, 
Nor wait for mateless nightingale ; 
I 'd listen to the lusty herds. 
The ewes with lambs as white as snow. 



54 A PEAL OF BELLS. 

I 'd find out music in the hail 
And all the winds that blow. 

If I might see another Spring — 

stinging comment on my past 
That all my past results in " if" — 

If I might see another Spring 
I 'd laugh to-day, to-day is brief; 

1 would not wait for anything : 
I 'd use to-day that cannot last. 
Be glad to-day and sing. 



A PEAL OF BELLS. 

STRIKE the bells wantonly, 
Tinkle tinkle well ; 
Bring me wine, bring me flowers, 

Ring the silver bell. 
All my lamps burn scented oil, 

Hung on laden orange-trees. 
Whose shadowed foliage is the foil 

To golden lamps and oranges. 
Heap my golden plates with fruit, 

Golden fruit, fresh-plucked and ripe ; 

Strike the bells and breathe the pipe 
Shut out showers from summer hor 
Silence that complaining lute ; 



FATA MORGANA, 55 

Shut out thinking, shut out pain, 
From hours that cannot come again. 

Strike the bells solemnly, 

• Ding dong deep : 
My friend is passing to his bed, 

Fast asleep ; 
There 's plaited linen round his head, 

While foremost go his feet, — 
His feet that cannot carry him. 
My feast 's a show, my lights are dim ; 

Be still, your music is not sweet, — 
There is no music more for him : 

His lights are out, his feast is done ; 
His bowl that sparkled to the brim 
Is drained, is broken, cannot hold ; 
My blood is chill, his blood is cold ; 

His death is full, and mine begun. 



FATA MORGANA. 

A BLUE-EYED phantom far before 
Is laughing, leaping toward the sun 
Like lead I chase it evermore, 
I pant and run. 

It breaks the sunlight bound on bound ; 

Goes singing as it leaps along 
To sheep-bells with a dreamy sound 

A dreamy song. 



56 ''NO, THANK YOU, JOHN:' 

I laugh, it is so brisk and gay ; 

It is so far before, I weep : 
I hope I shall lie down some day, 

Lie down and sleep. 



"NO, THANK YOU, JOHN." 

I NEVER said I loved you, John : 
Why will you teaze me, day by day, 
And wax a weariness to think upon 
With always " do " and " pray" ? 

You know I never loved you, John ; 

No fault of mine made me your toast : 
Why will you haiint me with a face as wan 
As shows an hour-old ghost ? 

I dare say Meg or Moll would take 

Pity upon you, if you 'd ask : 
And pray don't remain single for my sake 
Who can't perform that task. 

i have no heart ? — Perhaps I have not ; 

But then you 're mad to take offence 
That I don't give you what I have not got ; 
Use your own common sense. 

Let bygones be bygones : 

Don't call me false, who owed not to be true 



MA Y. 57 

I 'd rather answer " No " to fifty Johns 
Than answer " Yes " to you. 

Let 's mar our pleasant days no more, 

Song-birds of passage, days of youth : 
Catch at to-day, forget the days before : 
I '11 wink at your untruth. 

Let us strike hands as hearty friends ; 

No more, no less ; and friendship 's good : 
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends, 
And points not understood 

In open treaty. Rise above 

Quibbles and shuffling off and on : 
Here 's friendship for you if you like ; but love, — 
No, thank you, John. 



MAY. 

I CANNOT tell you how it was ; 
But this I know : it came to pass 
Upon a bright and breezy day 
When May was young ; ah, pleasant May ! 
As yet the poppies were not born 
Bet^veen the blades of tender corn ; 
The last eggs had not hatched as yet. 
Nor any bird foregone its mate. 



58 A PAUSE OF THOUGHT. 

I cannot tell you what it was ; 
But this I know : it did but pass. 
It passed away with sunny May, 
With all sweet things it passed away, 
And left me old, and cold, and gray. 



I 



A PAUSE OF THOUGHT. 

LOOKED for that which is not, nor can be. 
And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth 
But years must pass before a hope of youth 
Is resigned utterly. 



I watched and waited with a steadfast will : 
And though the object seemed to flee away 
That I so longed for, ever day by day 
I watched and waited still. 

Sometimes I said : This thing shall be no more ; 
My expectation wearies and shall cease ; 
I v/ill resign it now and* be at peace : 
Yet never gave it o'er. 

Sometimes I said : It is an empty name 
I long for ; to a name why should I give 
The peace of all the days I have to live ? — 
Yet gave it all the same. 



TWILIGHT CALM, 59 

Alas, thou foolish one ! alike unfit 
For healthy joy and salutary pain : 
Thou knowest the chase useless, and again 
Turnest to follow it. 



TWILIGHT CALM 



o 



PLEASANT eventide ! 

Clouds on the western side 
Grow gray and grayer hiding the warm sun : 
The bees and birds, their happy labors done, 
Seek their close nests and bide. 

Screened in the leafy wood 
The stock-doves sit and brood : 
The very squirrel leaps from bough to bough 
But lazily ; pauses ; and settles now 
Where once he stored his food. 

One by one the flowers close, 

Lily and dewy rose 
Shutting their tender petals from the moon : 
The grasshoppers are still ; but not so soon 

Are still the noisy crows. 

The dormouse squats and eats 

Choice little dainty bits 
Beneath the spreading roots of a broad lime ; 
Nibbling his fill he stops from time to time 

And listens where he sits. 



6o TWILIGHT CALM. 

From far the lowings come 

Of cattle driven home : 
From farther still the wind brings fitfully 
The vast continual murmur of the sea, 

Now loud, now almost dumb. 

The gnats whirl in the air, 

The evening gnats ; and there 
The owl opes broad his eyes and wings to sail 
For prey ; the bat wakes ; and the shell-less snail 

Comes forth, clammy and bare. 

Hark ! that 's the nightingale, 

Telling the self-same tale 
Her song told when this ancient earth was young : 
So echoes answered when her song was sung 

In the first wooded vale. 

We call it love and pain, — 

The passion of her strain ; 
And yet we little understand or know : 
Why should it not be ratlier joy that so 

Throbs in each throbbing vein ? 

In separate herds the deer 

Lie ; here the bucks, and here 
The does, and by its mother sleeps the fawn : 
Through all the hours of night until the dawn 

They sleep, forgetting fear. 



WIFE TO HUSBAND. 6i 

The hare sleeps where it hes, 

With wary half-closed eyes ; 
The cock has ceased to crow, the hen to cluck : 
Only the /ox is out, some heedless duck 

Or chicken to surprise. 

Remote, each single star 

Comes out, till there they are 
All shining brightly : how the dews fall damp ! 
While close at hand the glow-worm lights her lamp 

Or twinkles from afar. 

But evening now is done 

As much as if the sun 
Day-giving had arisen in the east : 
For night has come ; and the great calm has ceased, 

The quiet sands have run. 



WIFE TO HUSBAND 

PARDON the faults in me, 
For the love of years ago : 
Good by. 
I must drift across the sea, 
I must sink into the snow, 
I must die. 

You can bask in this sun. 
You can drink wine, and eat : 
Good by. 



62 WIFE TO HUSBAND. 

I must gird myself and run, 
Though with unready feet : 
I must die. 

Blank sea to sail upon, 
Cold bed to sleep in : 
Good by. 
While you clasp, I must be gone 
For all your weeping : 
I must die. 

A kiss for one friend, 
And a word for two, -^ 
Good by : -^ 
A lock that you must send, 
A kindness you must do : 
I must die. 

Not a word for you. 
Not a lock or kiss, 
Good by. 
We, one, must part in two ; 
Verily death is this : 
I must die. 



MIRAGE. 63 



THREE SEASONS. 

« A CUP for hope ! " she said, 

Jr\. In springtime ere the bloom was old 
The crimson wine was poor and cold 
By her mouth's richer red. 

" A cup for love ! " how low, 
How soft the words ; and all the while 
Her blush was rippling with a smile 

Like summer after snow. 

" A cup for memory ! " 
Cold cup that one must drain alone : 
While autumn winds are up and moan 

Across the barren sea. 

Hope, memory, love : 
Hope for fair morn, and love for day, 
And memory for the evening gray 

And solitary dove. 



MIRAGE. 

THE hope I dreamed of was a dream, 
Was but a dream ; and now I wake 
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old, 
For a dream's sake. 



64 • SHUT OUT. 

I hang my harp upon a tree, 

A weeping willow in a lake ; 
I hang my silenced harp there, wrung and snapt 

For a dream's sake. 

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart ; 

My silent heart, lie still and break : 
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed 

For a dream's sake. 



SHUT OUT. 

THE door was shut. I looked between 
Its iron bars \ and saw it lie. 
My garden, mine, beneath the sky, 
Pied with all flowers bedewed and green : 

From bough to bough the song-birds crossed, 
From flower to flower the moths and bees ; 
With all its nests and stately trees 

It had been mine, and it was lost. 

A shadowless spirit kept the gate, 
Blank and unchanging like the grave. 
I peering through said : " Let me have 

Some buds to cheer my outcast state." 

He answered not. " Or give me, then. 
But one small twig from shrub or tree ; 
And bid my home remember me 

Until I come to it again." 



SOUND SLEEP. 65 

The spirit was silent ; but he took 

Mortar and stone to build a wall; 

He left no loophole great or small 
Through which my straining eyes might look : 

So now I sit here quite alone 

Blinded with tears ; nor grieve for that, 
For naught is left worth looking at 

Since my delightful land is gone. 

A violet bed is budding near, 
Wherein a lark has made her nest : 
And good they are, but not the best; 

And dear they are, but not so dear. 



SOUND SLEEP. 

SOME are laughing, some are weeping; 
She is sleeping, only sleeping. 
Round her rest wild-flowers are creeping; 
There the wind is heaping, heaping 
Sweetest sweets of Summer's keeping, 
By the cornfields ripe for reaping. 

There are lilies, and there blushes 
The deep rose, and there the thrushes 
Sing till latest sunlight flushes 
In the west ; a fresh wind brushes 
Through the leaves while evening hushes. 



66 SONG. 

There by day the lark is singing 
And the grass and weeds are springing j 
There by night the bat is winging ; 
There forever winds are bringing 
Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing. 

Night and morning, noon and even, 
Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven ; 
The long strife at length is striven : 
Till her grave-bands shall be riven 
Such is the good portion given 
To her soul at rest and shriven. 



SONG. 

SHE sat and sang alway 
By the green margin of a stream, 
Watching the fishes leap and play 
Beneath the glad sunbeam. 

I sat and wept alway 

Beneath the moon's most shadowy beam, 
Watching the blossoms of the May 

Weep leaves into the stream. ^ 

I wept for memory; 

She sang for hope that is so fair : 
My tears were swallowed by the sea ; 

Her songs died on the air. 



SONG. 67 



SONG. 

WHEN I am dead, my dearest, 
Sing no sad songs for me; 
Plant thou no roses at my head, 

Nor shady cypress-tree : 
Be the green grass above me 

With showers and dewdrops wet j 
And if thou wilt, remember, 
And if thou wilt, forget. 

I shall not see the shadows, 

I shall not feel the rain ; 
I shall not hear the nightingale 

Sing on, as if in pain : 
And dreaming through the twilight 

That doth not rise nor set, 
Haply I may remember, 

And haply may forget. 



63 BITTER FOR SWEET. 

DEAD BEFORE DEATH. 

SONNET. 

AH ! changed and cold, how changed and very cold, 
With stiffened smiling lips and cold calm eyes : 

Changed, yet the same; much knowing, little wise; 
This was the promise of the days of old ! 
Grown hard and stubborn in the ancient mould, 

Grown rigid in the sham of lifelong lies : 

We hoped for better things as years would rise. 
But it is over as a tale once told. 
All fallen the blossom that no fruitage bore. 

All lost the present and the future time. 
All lost, all lost, the lapse that went before : 
So lost till death shut-to the opened door. 

So lost from chime to everlasting chime, 
So cold and lost forever evermore. 

BITTER FOR SWEET. 

SUMMER is gone with all its roses, ] 

Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers, \ 

Its warm air and refreshing showers : \ 
And even Autumn closes. 

Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going, 

And winter comes which is yet colder; 

Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder ^ 

And the last buds cease blowing. % 



SISTER MAUDE. 69 



SISTER MAUDE. 

WHO told my mother of my shame, 
Who told my father of my dear ? 
O who but Maude, my sister Maude, 
Who lurked to spy and peer. 

Cold he lies, as cold as stone, 

With his clotted curls about his face : 

The comeliest corpse in all the world 
And worthy of a queen's embrace. 

You might have spared his soul, sister. 
Have spared my soul, your own soul too 

Though I had not been born at all. 
He 'd never have looked at you. 

My father may sleep in Paradise, 

My mother at Heaven-gate : 
But sister Maude shall get no sleep 

Either early or late. 

My father may wear a golden gown. 

My mother a crown may win ; 
If my dear and I knocked at Heaven-gate 

Perhaps they 'd let us in : 
But sister Maude, O sister Maude, 

Bide you with death and sin. 



70 THE FIRST SPRING DAY. 

REST. 

SONNET. 

O EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes ; 
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth ; 

Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth 
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. 
She hath no questions, she hath no replies, 

Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth 

Of all that irked her from the hour of birth ; 
With stillness that is almost Paradise. 
Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her, 

Silence more musical than any song; 
Even her very heart has ceased to stir : 
Until the morning of Eternity 
Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be ; 

And when she wakes she will not think it long. 

THE FIRST SPRING DAY. 

I WONDER if the sap is stirring yet. 
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate. 
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun 
And crocus fires are kindling one by one : 

Sing, robin, sing; 
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring. jl 



THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. 71 

I wonder if the spring-tide of this year 
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear; 
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring, 
Or if the world alone will bud and sing : 

Sing, hope, to me; 
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory. 

The sap will surely quicken soon or late, 

The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate ; 

So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom, 

Or in this world, or in the world to come : 

Sing, voice of Spring, 
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing. 



THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. 

THERE 's blood between us, love, my love, 
There 's father's blood, there 's brother's blood j 
And blood 's a bar I cannot pass : 
I choose the stairs that mount above, 
Stair after golden skyward stair, 
To city and to sea of glass. 
My lily feet are soiled with mud, 
With scarlet mud which tells a tale 
Of hope that was, of guilt that was. 
Of love that shall not yet avail ; 
Alas, my heart, if I could bare 
My heart, this self-same stain is there : 



72 THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. 

I seek the sea of glass and fire 
To wash the spot, to burn the snare; 
Lo, stairs are meant to Uft us higher: 
Mount with me, mount the kindled stair. 

Your eyes look earthward, mine look up. 
I see the far-off city grand, 
Beyond the hills a watered land. 
Beyond the gulf a gleaming strand 
Of mansions where the righteous sup ; 
Who sleep at ease among their trees, 
Or wake to sing a cadenced hymn 
With Cherubim and Seraphim; 
They bore the Cross, they drained the cup, 
Racked, roasted, crushed, wrenched limb from limb, 
They the offscouring of the world : 
The heaven of starry heavens unfurled, 
The sun before their face is dim. 

You looking earthward what see you ? 
Milk-white wine-flushed among the vines, 
Up and down leaping, to and fro, 
Most glad, most full, made strong with wines, 
Blooming as peaches pearled with dew. 
Their golden windy hair afloat, 
Love-music warbling in their throat. 
Young men and women come and go. 

You linger, yet the time is short : 
Flee for your life, gird up your strength 



THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. J2> 

To flee : the shadows stretched at length 

Show that day wanes, that night draws nigh ; 

Flee to the mountain, tarry not. 

Is this a time for smile and sigh, 

For songs among the secret trees 

Where sudden bluebirds nest and sport ? 

The time is short and yet you stay : 

To-day while it is called to-day 

Kneel, wrestle, knock, do violence, pray; 

To-day is short, to-morrow nigh : 

Why will you die ? why will you die ? 

You sinned with me a pleasant sin : 
Repent with me, for I repent. 
Woe 's me the lore I must unlearn ! 
Woe 's me that easy way we went. 
So rugged when I would return ! 
How long until my sleep begin, 
How long shall stretch these nights and days? 
Surely, clean Angels cr}-, she prays; 
She laves her soul with tedious tears : 
How long must stretch these years and years? 

I turn from you my cheeks and eyes. 
My hair which you shall see no more, — 
Alas for joy that went before, 
For joy that dies, for love that dies. 
Only my lips still turn to you, 
My livid lips that cry. Repent. 
O weary life, O weary Lent, 
O weary time whose stars are few. 



74 THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. 

How should I rest in Paradise, 
Or sit on steps of Heaven alone ? 
If Saints and Angels spoke of love 
Should I not answer from my throne : 
Have pity upon me, ye my friends, 
For I have heard the sound thereof? 
Should I not turn with yearning eyes. 
Turn earthwards with a pitiful pang ? 

save me from a pang in Heaven. 
By all the gifts we took and gave, 
Repent, repent, and be forgiven : 
This life is long, but yet it ends ; 
Repent and purge your soul and save : . 
No gladder song the morning stars 
Upon their birthday morning sang 
Than Angels sing when one repents. 

I tell you what I dreamed last night : 
A spirit with transfigured face 
Fire-footed clomb an infinite space. 

1 heard his hundred pinions clang. 
Heaven-bells rejoicing rang and rang, 
Heaven-air was thrilled with subtle scents, 
Worlds spun upon their rushing cars : 

He mounted shrieking : " Give me light." 

Still light was poured on him, more light; 

Angels, Archangels he outstripped, 

Exultant in exceeding might. 

And trod the skirts of Cherubim. 

Still "Give me light," he shrieked; and dipped 



THE CONVENT THRESHOLD, 75 

His thirsty face, and drank a sea, 
Athirst with thirst it could not slake. 
I saw him, drunk with knowledge, take 
From aching brows the aureole crown, — 
His locks writhed like a cloven snake, — 
He left his throne to grovel down 
And lick the dust of Seraphs' feet : 
For what is knowledge duly weighed ? 
Knowledge is strong, but love is sweet; 
Yea, all the progress he had made 
Was but to learn that all is small 
Save love, for love is all in all. 



I tell you what I dreamed last night : 
It was not dark, it was not light. 
Cold dews had drenched my plenteous hair 
Through clay ; you came to seek me there. 
And " Do you dream of me ? " you said. 
My heart was dust that used to leap 
To you ; I answered half asleep : 
" My pillow is damp, my sheets are red, 
There 's a leaden tester to my bed : 
Find you a warmer playfellow, 
A warmer pillow for your head, 
A kinder love to love than mine." 
You wrung your hands ; while I like lead 
Crushed downwards through the sodden earth : 
You smote your hands but not in mirth, 
And reeled but were not drunk with wine. 



76 THE CONVENT THRESHOLD. 

For all night long I dreamed of you : 
I woke and prayed against my will, 
Then slept to dream of you again. 
At length I rose and knelt and prayed : 
* I cannot write the words I said, 
My words were slow, my tears were few; 
But through the dark my silence spoke 
Like thunder. When this morning broke, 
My face was pinched, my hair was gray, 
And frozen blood was on the sill 
Where stifling in my struggle I lay. 

If now you saw me you would say : 
Where is the face I used to love ? 
And I would answer : Gone before; 
It tarries veiled in Paradise. 
When once the morning star shall rise, 
When earth with shadow flees away 
And we stand safe within the door. 
Then you shall lift the veil thereof. 
Look up, rise up : for far above 
Our palms are grown, our place is set; 
There we shall meet as once we met, 
And love with old familiar love. 



UP-HILL, 7y 



UP-HILL. 

DOES the road wind up-hill all the way ? 
Yes, to the very end. 
Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? 
From morn to night, my friend. 

But is there for the night a resting-place ? 

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. 
May not the darkness hide it from my face ? 

You cannot miss that inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ? 

Those who have gone before. 
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight ? 

They will not keep you standing at that door. 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak ? 

Of labor you shall find the sum. 
Will there be beds for me and all who seek ? 

Yea, beds for all who come. 



DEVOTIONAL PIECES. 



"THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH 
KNOWLEDGE." 



I BO RE with thee long weary days and nights, 
Through many pangs of heart, through many tears ; 
I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights, 
For three and thirty years. 

Who else had dared for thee what I have dared ? 

I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above ; 
I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared : 
Give thou Me love for love. 

For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth, 

For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: 
Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth: 
Why wilt thou still be lost ? 

I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced : 

Men only marked upon My shoulders borne 
The branding cross ; and shouted hungry-voiced, 
Or wagged their heads in scorn. 



82 A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK. 

Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name 

Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes : 
I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame ; 
I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. 

A thief upon My right hand and My left; 

Six hours alone, athirst, in misery : 
At length in death one smote My heart and clefl 
A hiding-place for thee. 

Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down 

More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep : 
So did I win a kingdom, — share My crown ; 
A harvest, — come and reap. 



"A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK. 

I WILL accept thy will to do and be, 
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, 
Thy will at least to love, that burns within 
And thirsteth after Me : 
So will I render fruitful, blessing still, 

The germs and small beginnings in thy heart. 
Because thy will cleaves to the better part. — 
Alas, I cannot will. 

Dost not thou will, poor soul ? Yet I receive 
The inner unseen longings of the soul ; 




A BETTER RESURRECTION. 



I guide them turning towards Me ; I control 

And charm hearts till they grieve : 
If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass, 
Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love \ 
For I have power in earth and heaven above. — 

I cannot wish, alas ! 

What, neither choose nor wish to choose ? and yet 
I still must strive to win thee and constrain : 
For thee I hung upon the cross in pain, 
How then can I forget ? 
If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate, 

Nor choose, nor wish, — resign thyself, be still 
Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will. — 
I do not deprecate. 



A BETTER RESURRECTION 



I HAVE no wit, no words, no tears; 
My heart within me like a stone 
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears ; 

Look right, look left, I dwell alone ; 
I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief 

No everlasting hills I see ; 
My life is in the falling leaf : 
O Jesus, quicken me. 



84 ADVENT. 

My life is like a faded leaf, 

My harvest dwindled to a husk ; 

Truly my life is void and brief 
And tedious in the barren dusk ; 

My life is like a frozen thing, 
No bud nor greenness can I see : 

Yet rise it shall, — the sap of Spring j 
O Jesus, rise in me. 

My life is like a broken bowl, 
A broken bowl that cannot hold 

One drop of water for my soul 
Or cordial in the searching cold; 

Cast in the fire the perished thing, 
Melt and remould it, till it be 

A royal cup for Him my King : 
O Jesus, drink of me. 



ADVENT. 

THIS Advent moon shines cold and clear, 
These Advent nights are long j 
Our l^mps have burned year after year. 

And still their flame is strong. 
" Watchman, what of the night ? " we cry. 

Heart-sick with hope deferred : 
" No speaking signs are in the sky," 
Is still the watchman's word. 



ADVENT, 8s 

The Porter watches at the gate, 

The servants watch within; 
The watch is long betimes and late, 

The prize is slow to win. 
" Watchman, what of the night ? " but still 

His answer sounds the same : 
" No daybreak tops the utmost hill, 

Nor pale our lamps of flame." 

One to another hear them speak, 

The patient virgins wise : 
" Surely He is not far to seek," — 

" All night we watch and rise." 
" The days are evil looking back, 

The coming days are dim \ 
Yet count we not His promise slack. 

But watch and wait for Him." 

One with another, soul with soul. 

They kindle fire from fire : 
" Friends watch us who have touched the goal." 

" They urge us, come up higher." 
" With them shall rest our waysore feet, 

With them is built our home. 
With Christ." " They sweet, but He most sweet, 

Sweeter than honeycomb." 

There no more parting, no more pain, 

The distant ones brought near. 
The lost so long are found again. 

Long lost but longer dear : 



86 ADVENT. 

Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, 
Nor heart conceived that rest, 

With them our good things long deferred, 
With Jesus Christ our Best. 

We weep because the night is long, 

We laugh, for day shall rise, 
We sing a slow contented song 

And knock at Paradise. 
AVeeping we hold Him fast Who wept 

For us, — we hold Him fast j 
And will not let Him go except 

He bless us first or last. 

Weeping we hold Him fast to-night ; 

We will not let Him go 
Till daybreak smite our wearied sight, 

And summer smite the snow : 
Then figs shall bud, and dove with dove 

Shall coo the livelong day ; 
Then He shall say, " Arise, My love. 

My fair one, come away." 



THE THREE ENEMIES. %^ 



THE THREE ENEMIES. 

THE FLESH. 

^'"QWEET, thou art pale." 

O " More pale to see, 

Christ hung upon the cruel tree 
And bore His Father's wrath for me." 

" Sweet, thou art sad." 

" Beneath a rod 
More heavy, Christ for my sake trod 
The winepress of the wrath of God." 

" Sweet, thou art weary." 

"Not so Christ: 
Whose mighty love of me sufficed 
For Strength, Salvation, Eucharist." 

" Sweet, thou art footsore." 

"If I bleed, 
His feet have bled : yea, in my need 
His Heart once bled for mine indeed." 



THE WORLD. 

" Sweet, thou art young." 

" So He was young 
Who for my sake in silence hung 
Upon the Cross with Passion wrung." 



88 THE THREE ENEMIES. 

" Look, thou art fair." 

" He was more fair 
Than men, Who deigned for me to wear 
A visage marred beyond compare." 

" And thou hast riches." 

" Daily bread : 
All else is His ; Who living, dead, 
For me lacked where to lay His Head." 

" And life is sweet." 

" It was not so 
To Him, Whose Cup did overflow 
With mine unutterable woe." 

THE DEVIL. 

" Thou drinkest deep." 

" When Christ would sup 
He drained the dregs from out my cup : 
So how should I be lifted up ? " 

"Thou Shalt win Glory." 

" In the skies, 
Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes 
Lest they should look on vanities." 

"Thou shalt have Knowledge." 

" Helpless dust ! 
In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust : 
Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just." 



iME ONE CERTAlJ\ix\ by 

"And Might." 

" Get thee behind me. Lord, 
Who hast redeemed and not abhorred 
My soul, O keep it by Thy Word." 



THE ONE CERTAINTY. 

SONNET. 

VANITY of vanities, the Preacher saith. 
All things are vanity. The eye and ear 

Cannot be filled with what they see and hear. 
Like early dew, or like the sudden breath 
Of wind, or like the grass that withereth, 

Is man, tossed to and fro by hope and fear : 

So little joy hath he, so little cheer, 
Till all things end in the long dust of death. 
To-day is still the same as yesterday. 

To-morrow also even as one of them ; 
And there is nothing new under the sun : 
Until the ancient race of Time be run. 

The old thorns shall grow out of the old stem. 
And morning shall be cold, and twilight gray. 



90 CHRISTIAN AND JEW, 

CHRISTIAN AND JEW. 

A DIALOGUE. 

O HAPPY happy land ! 
Angels like rushes stand 
About the wells of light." — 
" Alas, I have not eyes for this fair sight : 
Hold fast my hand." — 

" As in a soft wind, they 
Bend all one blessed way, 

Each bowed in his own glory, star with star."- 

" I cannot see so far, 

Here shadows are." — 

" White-winged the cherubim, 
Yet whiter seraphim. 

Glow white with intense fire of love.'* — 
" Mine eyes are dim : 

I look in vain above. 
And miss their hymn." — 

" Angels, Archangels cry 
One to other ceaselessly 

(I hear them sing) 

One 'Holy, Holy, Holy,' to their King." — 
" I do not hear them, I." — 



CHRISTIAN AND JEW. 91 

" At one side Paradise 

Is curtained from the rest, 
Made green for wearied eyes ; 

Much softer than the breast 
Of mother-dove clad in a rainbow's dyes. 

" All precious souls are there 

Most safe, elect by grace, 

All tears are wiped forever from their face : 
Untired in prayer 

They wait and praise, 

Hidden for a little space. 

" Boughs of the Living Vine, 
They spread in summer shine 

Green leaf with leaf: 
Sap of the Royal Vine, it stirs like wine 

In all both less and chief. 

"Sing to the -Lord, 

All spirits of all flesh, sing; 
For He hath not abhorred 

Our low estate nor scorned our offering : 

Shout to our King." — 

" But Zion said : 

My Lord forgetteth me. 
Lo, she hath made her bed 

In dust j forsaken weepeth she 

Where alien rivers swell the sea. 



92 CHRISTIAN AND JEW. 

" She laid her body as the ground, 

Her tender body as the ground to those 

Who passed ; her harpstrings cannot sound 

In a strange land ; discrowned 
She sits, and drunk with woes." — 

" O drunken not with wine, 

Whose sins and sorrows have fulfilled the sum, — 
Be not afraid, arise, be no more dumb j 

Arise, shine, 

For thy light is come." — 

" Can these bones live ? " — 

" God knows : 

The prophet saw such clothed with flesh and skin ; 

A wind blew on them and life entered in; 
They shook and rose. 

Hasten the time, O Lord, blot out their sin, 

Let life begin." 



SWEET DEATH. 93 



SWEET DEATH. 

THE sweetest blossoms die. 
And so it was that, going day by day 
Unto the church to praise and pray, 
And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, 
I saw how on the graves the flowers 
Shed their fresh leaves in showers, 
And how their perfume rose up to the sky 
Before it passed away. 

The youngest blossoms die. 

They die and fall and nourish the rich earth 

From which they lately had their birth j 
Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by 

And is as though it had not been: — 

All colors turn to green ; 
The bright hues vanish and the odors fly, 

The grass hath lasting worth. 

And youth and beauty die. 

So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth 

Better than beauty and than youth 
Are Saints and Angels, a glad company ; 

And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Ease, 

Art better far than these. 
Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why 

Prefer to glean with Ruth ? 



94 SYMBOLS, 



SYMBOLS. 

I WATCHED a rosebud very long 
Brought on by dew and sun and shower, 
Waiting to see the perfect flower : 
Then, when I thought it should be strong, 

It opened at the matin hour 
And fell at even-song. 

I watched a nest from day to day, 
A green nest full of pleasant shade, 
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid : 

But when they should have hatched in May> 
The two old birds had grown afraid 

Or tired, and flew away. 

Then in my wrath I broke the bough 
That I had tended so with care, 
Hoping its scent should fill the air \ 

I crushed the eggs, not heeding how 
Their ancient promise had been fair : 

I would have vengeance now. 

But the dead branch spoke from the sod, 
And the eggs answered me again : 
Because we failed dost thou complain > 

Is thy wrath just ? And what if God, 
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain, 

Should also take the rod ? 



CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FI^.LD. 95 



•^CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD." 

FLOWERS preach to us if we will hear :~ 
The rose saith in the dewy morn : 
I am most fair; 
Yet all my loveliness is born 
Upon a thorn. 

The poppy saith amid the corn : 
Let but my scarlet head appear 
And I am held in scorn ; 
Yet juice of subtle virtue lies 
Within my cup of curious dyes. 
The lilies say : Behold how we 
Preach without words of purity. 
The violets whisper from the shade 
-Which their own leaves have made : 
Men scent our fragrance on the air, 
Yet take no heed 
Of humble lessons we would read. 

But not alone the fairest flowers : 

The merest grass 

Along the roadside where we pass, 

Lichen and moss and sturdy weed, 

Tell of His love who sends the dew. 

The rain and sunshine too, 

To nourish one small seed. 



96 THE WORLD. 



THE WORLD. 

SONNET, 

BY day she wooes me, soft, exceeding fair : 
But all night as the moon so changeth she ; 

Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy, 
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair. 
By day she wooes me to the outer air. 

Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety : 

But through the night, a beast she grins at me, 
A very monster void of love and prayer. 
By day she stands a lie : by night she stands. 

In all the naked horror of the truth. 
With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands. 
Is this a friend indeed ; that I should sell 

My soul to her, give her my life and youth, 
Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell ? 



A TESTIMONY. 97 



A TESTIMONY. 

I SAID of laughter, it is vain. 
Of mirth I said, what profits it ? 
Therefore I found a book, and writ 
Therein how ease and also pain, 
How health and sickness, every one 
Is vanity beneath the sun. 

Man walks in a vain shadow \ he 

Disquieteth himself in vain. 

The things that were shall be again. 
The rivers do not fill the sea, 
But turn back to their secret source ; 
The winds too turn upon their course. 

Our treasures moth and rust corrupt; 

Or thieves break through and steal, or they 
Make themselves wings and fly away. 
One man made merry as he supped. 
Nor guessed how when that night grew dim 
His soul would be required of him. 

We build our houses on the sand, 

Comely withoutside and within ; 

But when the winds and rains begin 
To beat on them, they cannot stand j 
They perish, quickly overthrown, 
Loose from the very basement stone. 



98 A TESTIMONY, 

All things are vanity, I said, — 

Yea, vanity of vanities. 

The rich man dies; and the poor dies; 
The worm feeds sweetly on the dead. 
Whate'er thou lackest, keep this trust : 
All in the end shall have but dust : 

The one inheritance, which best 

And worst alike shall find and share : 
The wicked cease from troubling there, 

And there the weary be at rest ; 

There all the wisdom of the wise 

Is vanity of vanities. 

Man flourishes as a green leaf 
And as a leaf doth pass away ; 
Or, as a shade that cannot stay 
And leaves no track, his course is brief: 
Yet man doth hope and fear and plan 
Till he is dead : — . O foolish man ! 

' Our eyes cannot be satisfied 

With seeing, nor our ears be filled 
With hearing : yet we plant and build 
And buy and make our borders wide; 
We gather wealth, we gather care, 
But know not who shall be our heir. 

Why should we hasten to arise 
So early, and so late take rest ? 
Our labor is not good ; our best 

Hopes fade ; our heart is stayed on lies : 



A TESTIMONY. 99 

Verily, we sow wind ; and we 
Shall reap the whirlwind, verily. 

He who hath little shall not lack; 

He who hath plenty shall decay : 

Our fathers went ; we pass away ; 
Our children follow on our track : 
So generations fail, and so 
They are renewed and come and go. 

The earth is fattened with our dead ; 
She swallows more and doth not cease : 
Therefore her wine and oil increase 

And her sheaves are not numbered ; 

Therefore her plants are green, and all 

Her pleasant trees lusty and tall. 

Therefore the maidens cease to sing, 

And the young men are very sad ; 

Therefore the sowing is not glad, , 
And mournful is the harvesting. 
Of high and low, of great and small. 
Vanity is the lot of all. 

A King dwelt in Jerusalem ; 

He was the wisest man on earth ; 

He had all riches from his birth. 
And pleasures till he tired of them ; 
Then, having tested all things, he 
Witnessed that all are vanity. 

G 

LofC. 



[00 SLEEP AT SEA. 



SLEEP AT SEA. 

SOUND the deep waters : — 
Who shall sound that deep?' 
Too short the plummet, 

And the watchmen sleep. 
Some dream of effort 

Up a toilsome steep ; 
Some dream of pasture grounds 
For harmless sheep. 

White shapes flit to and fro 

From mast to mast ; 
They feel the distant tempest 

That nears them fast : 
Great rocks are straight ahead, 

Great shoals not past ; 
They shout to one another 

Upon the blast. 

O, soft the streams drop music 

Between the hills, 
And musical the birds' nests 

Beside those rills : 
The nests are types of home 

Love-hidden from ills, 
The nests are types of spirits 

Love-music fills. 



SLEEP AT SEA. loi 

So dream the sleepers, 

Each man in his place; 
The lightning shows the smile 

Upon each face : 
The ship is driving, driving, 

It drives apace : 
And sleepers smile, and spirits 

Bewail their case. 

The lightning glares and reddens 

Across the skies ; 
It seems but sunset 

To those sleeping eyes. 
When did the sun go down 

On such a wise ? 
From such a sunset 

When shall day arise ? 

" Wake," call the spirits : 

But to heedless ears 
They have forgotten sorrows 

And hopes and fears ; 
They have forgotten perils 

And smiles and tears \ 
Their dream has held them long, 

Long years and years. 

" Wake," call the spirits again ; 

But it would take 
A louder summons 

To bid them awake. 



102 SLEEP AT SEA. 

Some dream of pleasure 

For another's sake ; 
Some dream, forgetful 

Of a lifelong ache. 

One by one slowly, 

Ah, how sad and slow ! 
Wailing and praying 

The spirits rise and go : 
Clear stainless spirits, 

White, — as white as snowj 
Pale spirits, wailing 

For an overthrow. 

One by one flitting. 

Like a mournful bird 
Whose song is tired at last 

For no mate heard. 
The loving voice is silent, 

The useless word ; 
One by one flitting. 

Sick with hope deferred. 

Driving and driving, 

The ship drives amain : 
While swift from mast to mast 

Shapes flit again, 
Flit silent as the silence 

Where men lie slain ; 
Their shadow cast upon the sails 

Is like a stain. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 103 

No voice to call the sleepers, 

No hand to raise : 
They sleep to death in dreaming, 

Of length of days. 
Vanity of vanities, 

The Preacher says : 
Vanity is the end 

Of all their ways. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 

THE first was like a dream through summer heat, 
The second like a tedious numbing swoon, 
While the half-frozen pulses lagged to beat 
Beneath a winter moon. 

" But," says my friend, " what was this thing and 

where ? " 
® It was a pleasure-place within my soul ; 
An earthly paradise supremely fair 
That lured me from the goal. 

The first part was a tissue of hugged lies ; 

The second was its ruin fraught with pain : 
Why raise the fair delusion to the skies 

But to be dashed again ? 

My castle stood of white transparent glass 
Glittering and frail with many a fretted spire. 

But when the summer sunset came to pass 
It kindled into fire. 



104 FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 

My pleasaunce was an undulating green, 

Stately with trees whose shadows slept below, 

With glimpses of smooth garden-beds between. 
Like flame or sky or snow. 

Swift squirrels on the pastures took their ease, 
With leaping lambs safe from the unfeared knife \ 

All singing-birds rejoicing in those trees 
Fulfilled their careless life. 

AVood-pigeons cooed there, stock-doves nestled there ; 

My trees were full of songs and flowers and fruit, 
Their branches spread a city to the air. 

And mice lodged in their root. 

My heath lay farther off, where lizards lived 
In strange metallic mail, just spied and gone j 

Like darted lightnings here and there perceived 
But nowhere dwelt upon. 

Frogs and fat toads were there to hop or plod 
And propagate in peace, an uncouth crew, 

Where velvet-headed rushes rustling nod 
And spill the morning dew. 

All caterpillars throve beneath my rule. 

With snails and slugs in corners out of sight ; 

I never marr&d the curious sudden stool 
That perfects in a night. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 105 

Safe in his excavated gallery 

The burrowing mole groped on from year to year : 
No harmless hedgehog curled because of me 

His prickly back for fear. 

Ofttimes one like an angel walked with me, 
With spirit-discerning eyes like flames of fire, 

But deep as the unfathomed endless sea 
Fulfilling my desire : 

And sometimes like a snowdrift he was fair, 
And sometimes like a sunset glorious red, 

And sometimes he had wings to scale the air 
With aureole round his head. 

We sang our songs together by the way, 
Calls and recalls and echoes of delight j 

So communed we together all the day. 
And so in dreams by night. 

I have no words to tell what way we walked. 
What unforgotten path now closed and sealed; 

I have no words to tell all things we talked. 
All things that he revealed : 

This only can I tell : that hour by hour 
I waxed more feastful, lifted up and glad ; 

I felt no thorn-prick when I plucked a flower, 
Felt not my friend was sad. 



io6 FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 

" To-morrow," once I said to him with smiles : 
" To-night," he answered gravely and was dumb, 

But pointed out the stones that numbered miles 
And miles and miles to come. 

" Not so," I said : " to-morrow shall be sweet ; 

To-night is not so sweet as coming days." 
Then first I saw that he had turned his feet, 

Had turned from me his face : 

Running and flying miles and miles he went, 
But once looked back to beckon with his hand 

And cry : " Come home, O love, from banishment : 
Come to the distant land." 

That night destroyed me like an avalanche ; 

One night turned all my summer back to snow : 
Next morning not a bird upon my branch, 

Not a lamb woke below, — 

No bird, no lamb, no living breathing thing; 

No squirrel scampered on my breezy lawn, 
No mouse lodged by his hoard : all joys took wing 

And fled before that dawn. 

Azure and sun were starved from heaven above. 
No dew had fallen, but biting frost lay hoar : 

O love, I knew that I should meet my love, 
Should find my love no more. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 107 

" My love no more," I muttered, stunned with pain : 
I shed no tear, I wrung no passionate hand. 

Till something whispered : " You shall meet again, 
Meet in a distant land." 

Then with a cry like famine I arose, 

I lit my candle, searched from room to room, 

Searched up and down ; a war of winds that froze 
Swept through the blank of gloom. 

I searched day after day, night after night ; 

Scant change there came to me of night or day : 
" No more," I wailed, " no more " ; and trimmed my 
light. 

And gnashed, but did not pray, 

Until my heart broke and my spirit broke : 
Upon the frost-bound floor I stumbled, fell. 

And moaVied : " It is enough : withhold the stroke. 
Farewell, O love, farewell." 

Then life swooned from me. And I heard the song 
Of spheres and spirits rejoicing over me : 

One cried : " Our sister, she hath suffered long." — 
One answered : " Make her see." — 

One cried : " O blessed she who no more pain, 
Who no more disappointment shall receive." — 

One answered : " Not so : she must live again ; 
Strengthen thou her to live." 



io8 FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 

So, while I lay entranced, a curtain seemed 
To shrivel with crackling from before my face ; 

Across mine eyes a waxing radiance beamed 
And showed a certain place. 

I saw a vision of a woman, where 

Night and new morning strive for domination j 
Incomparably pale, and almost fair. 

And sad beyond expression. 

Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem. 
Were stately like the stars, and yet were tender; 

Her figure charmed me like a windy stem 
Quivering and drooped and slender. 

I stood upon the outer barren ground. 

She stood on inner ground that budded flowers ; 

While circling in their never-slackening round 
Danced by the mystic hours. 

But every flower was lifted on a thorn. 

And every thorn shot upright from its sands 

To gall her feet; hoarse laughter pealed in scorn 
With cruel clapping hands. 

She bled and wept, yet did not shrink ; her strength 
Was strung up until daybreak of delight : 

She measured measureless sorrow toward its length, 
And breadth, and depth, and height. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME, 109 

Then marked I how a chain sustained her form, 
A chain of living links not made nor riven : 

It stretched sheer up through lightning, wind, and storm, 
And anchored fast in heaven. 

One cried : " How long? yet founded on the Rock 
She shall do battle, suffer, and attain." — 

One answered : " Faith quakes in the tempest shock : 
Strengthen her soul again." 

I saw a cup sent down and come to her 
Brimful of loathing and of bitterness : 

She drank with livid lips that seemed to stir 
The depth, not make it less. 

But as she drank I spied a hand distil 
New wine and virgin honey ; making it 

First bitter-sweet, then sweet indeed, until 
She tasted only sweet. 

Her lips and cheeks waxed rosy-fresh and young ; 

Drinking she sang : " My soul shall nothing want " \ 
And drank anew : while soft a song was sung, 

A mystical slow chant. 

One cried : " The wounds are faithful of a friend : 
The wilderness shall blossom as a rose." — 

One answered : " Rend the veil, declare the end, 
Strengthen her ere she goes." 



no FROM HOUSE TO HOME. 

Then earth and heaven were rolled up like a scroll ; 

Time and space, change and death, had passed away; 
Weight, number, measure, each had reached its whole j 

The day had come, that day. 

Multitudes — multitudes — stood up in bliss, 
Made equal to the angels, glorious, fair \ 

With harps, palms, wedding-garments, kiss of peace, 
And crowned and haloed hair. 

They sang a song, a new song in the height, 

Harping with harps to Him Who is Strong and True : 

They drank new wine, their eyes saw with new light, 
Lo, all things were made new. 

Tier beyond tier they rose and rose and rose 
So high that it was dreadful, flames with flames : 

No man could number them, no tongue disclose 
Their secret sacred names. 

As though one pulse stirred all, one rush of blood 
Fed all, one breath swept through them myriad- 
voiced, 
They struck their harps, cast down their crowns, they 
stood 
And worshipped and rejoiced. 

Each face looked one way like a moon new-lit. 

Each face looked one way towards its Sun of Love ; 

Drank love and bathed in love and mirrored it 
And knew no end thereof. 



FROM HOUSE TO HOME. in 

Glory touched glory on each blessed head, 

Hands locked dear hands never to sunder more ; 

These were the new-begotten from the dead 
Whom the great birthday bore. 

Heart answered heart, soul answered soul at rest, 
Double against each other, filled, sufficed : 

All loving, loved of all ; but loving best 
And best beloved of Christ. 

I saw that one who lost her love in pain. 

Who trod on thorns, who drank the loathsome cup \ 

The lost in night, in day was found again ; 
The fallen was lifted up. 

They stood together in the blessed noon, 

They sang together through the length of days ; 

Each loving face bent Sunwards like a moon 
New-lit with love and praise. 

Therefore, O friend, I would not if I might 
Rebuild my house of lies, wherein I joyed 

One time to dwell : my soul shall walk in white, 
Cast down but not destroyed. 

Therefore in patience I possess my soul ; 

Yea, therefore as a flint I set my face, 
To pluck down, to build up again the whole — 

But in a distant place. 



112 FROM HOUSE TO HOME 

These thorns are sharp, yet I can tread on them j 
This cup is loathsome, yet He makes it sweet : 

My face is steadfast toward Jerusalem, 
My heart remembers it. 

I lift the hanging hands, the feeble knees — 
I, precious more than seven times molten gold ■ 

Until the day when from His storehouses 
God shall bring new and old ; 

Beauty for ashes, oil of joy for grief, 

Garment of praise for spirit of heaviness : 

Although to-day I fade as doth a leaf, 
I languish and grow less. 

Although to-day He prunes my twigs with pain. 
Yet doth His blood nourish and warm my root 

To-morrow I shall put forth buds again, 
And clothe myself with fruit. 

Although to-day I walk in tedious ways, 
To-day His staff is turned into a rod, 

Yet will I wait for Him the appointed days 
And stay upon my God. 



OLD AND NEW YEAR DITTIES. 



OLD AND NEW YEAR DITTIES. 



NEW Year met me somewhat sad : 
Old Year leaves me tired, 
Stripped of favorite things I had, 

Balked of much desired : 
Yet farther on my road to-day, 
God willing, farther on my way. 

New Year coming on apace 

What have you to give me ? 
Bring you scathe, or bring you grace, 
Face me with an honest face ; 
You shall not deceive me : 
Be it good or ill, be it what you will. 
It needs shall help me on my road, 
My rugged way to heaven, please God. 



Watch with me, men, women, and children dear. 
You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear. 
Watch with me this last vigil of the year. 
Some hug their business, some their pleasure-scheme ; 
Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream ; 
Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart. 



114 OLD AND NEW YEAR DITTIES. 

Watch with me, blessed spirits, who delight 

All through the holy night to walk in white, 

t)r take your ease after the long-drawn fight. 

I know not if they watch with me : I know 

They count this eve of resurrection slow, 

And cry, " How long ? " with urgent utterance strong. 

Watch with me, Jesus, in my loneliness : 
Though others say me nay, yet say Thou yes ; 
Though others pass me by, stop Thou to bless. 
Yea, Thou dost stop with me this vigil night ; 
To-night of pain, to-morrow of delight : 
I, Love, am Thine ; Thou, Lord, my God, art mine. 



Passing away, saith the World, passing away : 

Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day : 

Thy life never continueth in one stay. 

Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray 

That hath won neither laurel nor bay ? 

I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May : 

Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay 

On my bosom for aye. 

Then I answered : Yea. 

Passing away, saith my Soul,- passing away : 
With its burden of fear and hope, of labor and play ; 
Hearken what the past doth witness and say : 
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, 
A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. 



AMEN. 115 

At midnight, at cock-crow, at morning, one certain day 
Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay : 
Watch thou and pray. 
Then I answered : Yea. 

Passing away, saith my God, passing away : 

Winter passeth after the long delay : 

New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray. 

Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May. 

Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray. 

Arise, come away, night is past, and lo it is day. 

My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say. 

Then I answered : Yea. 



AMEN. 

IT is over. What is over ? 
Nay, how much is over truly ! — 
Harvest days we toiled to sow for ; 
Now the sheaves are gathered newly, 
Now the wheat is garnered duly. 

It is finished. What is finished ? 

Much is finished known or unknown : 
Lives are finished ; time diminished ; 

Was the fallow field left unsown ? 

Will these buds be always unblown ? 



ii6 AMEN. 

It suffices. What suffices ? 
All suffices reckoned rightly : 

Spring shall bloom where now the ice is, 
Roses make the bramble sightly, 
And the quickening sun shine brightly, 
And the latter wind blow lightly, 

And my garden teem with spices. 




'^^^> 



^^c^^%^ 



fe 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS 

AND OTHER POEMS 
By CHRISTINA.ROSSETTL 



^ 





The loTig hours_go and come and^go 



^ 



BOSTON.EDBERTS BROS, 



^ 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS 



TILL all sweet gums and juices flow, 
Till the blossom of blossoms blow, 
The long hours go and come and go. 

The bride she sleepeth, waketh, sleepeth, 
Waiting for one whose coming is slow : — 
Hark ! the bride weepeth. 

" How long shall I wait, come heat come rime ? " — 
"Till the strong Prince comes, who must come in time," 
Her women say. " There 's a mountain to climb, 

A river to ford. Sleep, dream and sleep : 
Sleep," they say : " we 've muffled the chime, 
Better dream than weep." 

In his world-end palace the strong Prince sat. 
Taking his ease on cushion and mat. 
Close at hand lay his staff and his hat. 

" When wilt thou start ? the bride waits, O youth." — 
" Now the moon 's at full ; I tarried for that. 
Now I start in truth. 



120 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

" But tell me first, true voice of my doom, 
Of my veiled bride in her maiden bloom ; 
Keeps she watch through glare and through gloom, 

Watch for me asleep and awake ? " — 
" Spell-bound she watches in one white room, 
And is patient for thy sake. 

" By her head lilies and rosebuds grow ; 
The lilies droop, — will the rosebuds blow ? 
The silver slim lilies hang the head low ; 

Their, stream is scanty, their sunshine rare ; 
Let the sun blaze out, and let the stream flow, 
They will blossom and wax fair. 

" Red and white poppies grow at her feet. 
The blood-red wait for sweet summer heat. 
Wrapped in bud-coats hairy and neat ; 

But the white buds swell ; one day they will burst. 
Will open their death-cups drowsy and sweet, — 
Which will open the first ? " 

Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail, 

And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale : 

" Time is short, life is short," they took up the tale : 

" Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you may ; 
Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail ; 
Love is sweet, use to-day." 

While the song swept by, beseeching and meek, 
Up rose the Prince with a flush on his cheek, 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 121 

Up he rose to stir and to seek, 

Going forth in the joy of his strength; 
Strong of limb, if of purpose weak, 
Starting at length. 

Forth he set in the breezy morn. 
Crossing green fields of nodding corn, 
As goodly a Prince as ever was born ; 
Carolling with the carolling lark ; — 
Sure his bride will be won and worn, 
Ere fall of the dark. 

So light his step, so merry his smile, 
A milkmaid loitered beside a stile, 
Set down her pail and rested awhile, 

A wave-haired milkmaid, rosy and white ; 
The Prince, who had journeyecf at least a mile. 
Grew athirst at the sight. 

" Will you give me a morning draught ? " — 

" You 're kindly welcome," she said, and laughed. 

He lifted the pail, new milk he quaffed ; 

Then wiping his curly black beard like silk : 
" Whitest cow that ever was calved 
Surely gave you this milk." 

Was it milk now, or was it cream ? 
Was she a maid, or an evil dream ? 
Her eyes began to glitter and gleam ; 

He would have gone, but he stayed instead j 



122 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS, 

Green they gleamed as he looked in them : 
"Give me my fee," she said. — 

"I will give you a jewel of gold." — 
" Not so ; gold is heavy and cold." — 
" I will give you a velvet fold 

Of foreign work your beauty to deck." — 
" Better I Hke my kerchief rolled 

Light and white round my neck." — 

" Nay," cried he, " but fix your own fee." — 

She laughed, "You may give the full moon to me; 

Or else sit under this apple-tree 

Here for one idle day by my side ; 
After that I' 11 let you go free, 
And the world is wide." 

Loath to stay, but to leave her slack, 

He half turned away, then he quite turned back : 

For courtesy's sake he could not lack 

To redeem his own royal pledge ; 
Ahead, too, the windy heaven lowered black 
With a fire-cloven edge. 

So he stretched his length in the apple-tree shade, 
Lay and laughed and talked to the maid, 
Who twisted her hair in a cunning braid. 
And writhed it shining in serpent-coils, 
And held him a day and a night fast laid 
In her subtle toils. 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 123 

At the death of night and the birth of day, 
When the owl left off his sober play, 
And the bat hung himself out of the way. 

Woke the song of mavis and merle, 
And heaven put off its hodden gray 
For mother-o'-pearl. 

Peeped up daisies here and there. 
Here, there, and everywhere ; 
Rose a hopeful lark in the air. 

Spreading out towards the sun his breast ; 
While the moon set solemn and fair 
Away in the west. 

" Up, up, up," called the watchman lark. 
In his clear reveillee : " Hearken, O hark ! 
Press to the high goal, fly to the mark. 
Up, O sluggard, new morn is born ; 
If still asleep when the night falls dark. 
Thou must wait a second morn." 

" Up, up, up," sad glad voices swelled : 
" So the tree falls and lies as it 's felled. 
Be thy bands loosed, O sleeper, long held 
In sweet sleep whose end is not sweet. 
Be the slackness girt and the softness quelled 
And the slowness fleet." 

Off he set. The grass grew rare, 
A blight lurked in the darkening air, 



24 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

The very moss grew hueless and spare, 

The last daisy stood all astunt ; 
Behind his back the soil lay bare, 
But barer in front. 

A land of chasm and rent, a land 
Of rugged blackness on either hand : 
If water trickled, its track was tanned 
With an edge of rust to the chink \ 
If one stamped on stone or on sand 
It returned a clink. 

A lifeless land, a loveless land, 
Without lair or nest on either hand : 
Only scorpions jerked in the sand, 

Black as black iron, or dusty pale ; 
From point to point sheer rock was manned 
By scorpions in mail. 

A land of neither life nor death. 
Where no man buildeth or fashioneth, 
Where none draws living or dying breath \ 

No man cometh or goeth there, 
No man doeth, seeketh, saith, 
In the stagnant air. 

Some old volcanic upset must 
Have rent the crust and blackened the crust ; 
Wrenched and ribbed it beneath its dust 
Above earth's molten centre at seethe, 



\ 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Heaved and heaped it by liuge upthrust 
Of fire beneath. 

Untrodden before, untrodden since ; 
Tedious land for a social Prince ; 
Halting, he scanned the outs and ins, 

Endless, labyrinthine, grim, 
Of the solitude that made him wince, 

Laying wait for him. 

By bulging rock and gaping cleft, 
Even of half mere daylight reft. 
Rueful he peered to right and left. 
Muttering in his altered mood : 
" The fate is hard that weaves my weft. 
Though my lot be good." 

Dim the changes of day to night, 

Of night scarce dark to day not bright. 

Still his road wound towards the right. 

Still he went, and still he went. 
Till one night he espied a light. 
In his discontent. 

Out it flashed from a yawn-mouthed cave, 

Like a red-hot eye from a grave. 

No man stood there of whom to crave 

Rest for wayfarer plodding by : 
Though the tenant were churl or knave 
The Prince might try. 



126 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

In he passed and tarried not, 
Groping his way from spot to spot, 
Towards where the cavern flare glowed hot ; 
An old, old mortal, cramped and double, 
Was peering into a seething-pot, 
In a world of trouble. 

The veriest atomy he looked, 
With grimy fingers clutching and crooked, 
Tight skin, a nose all bony and hooked, 
And a shaking, sharp, suspicious way; 
His blinking eyes had scarcely brooked 
The light of day. 

Stared the Prince, for the sight was new ; 
Stared, but asked without more ado : 
" May a weary traveller lodge with you, 

Old father, here in your lair ? 
In your country the inns seem few. 
And scanty the fare." 

The head turned not to hear him speak ; 
The old voice whistled as through a leak 
(Out it came in a quavering squeak) : 

" Work for wage is a bargain fit : 
If there "s aught of mine that you seek 
You must work for it. 

" Buried alive from light and air 
This year is the hundredth year. 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 127 

I feed my fire with a sleepless care, 

Watching my potion wane or wax : 
Elixir of Life is simmering there, 
And but one thing lacks. 

" If you 're fain to lodge here with me, 
Take that pair of bellows you see, — 
Too heavy for my old hands they be, — 

Take the bellows and puff and puff : 
When the steam curls rosy and free 
The broth 's boiled enough. 

" Then take your choice of all I have ; 
I will give you life if you crave. 
Already I 'm mildewed for the grave. 

So first myself I must drink my fill : 
But all the rest may be yours, to save 
Whomever you will." 

" Done," quoth the Prince, and the bargain stood. 

First he piled on resinous wood, 

Next plied the bellows in hopeful mood ; 

Thinking, " My love and I will live. 
If I tarry, why life is good, 
And she may forgive." 

The pot began to bubble and boil ; 
The old man cast in essence and oil, 
He stirred all up with a triple coil 
Of gold and silver and iron wire. 



128 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Dredged in a pinch of virgin soil, 
And fed the fire. 

But still the steam curled watery white ; 
Night turned to day and day to night \ 
One thing lacked, by his feeble sight 

Unseen, unguessed by his feeble mind : 
Life might miss him, but Death the blight 
Was sure to find. 

So when the hundredth year was full 

The thread was cut and finished the school. 

Death snapped the old worn-out tool, 

Snapped him short while he stood and stirred 
(Though stiff he stood as a stiff-necked mule) 
With never a word. 

Thus at length the old crab was nipped. 

The dead hand slipped, the dead finger dipped 

In the broth as the dead man slipped, — 

That same instant, a rosy red 
Flushed the steam, and quivered and clipped 
Round the dead old head. 

The last ingredient was supplied 
(Unless the dead man mistook or lied). 
Up started the Prince, he cast aside 

The bellows plied through the tedious trial, 
Made sure that his host had died, 
And filled a phial. * 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 129 

"One night's rest," thought the Prince. " This done, 
Forth I start with the rising sun : 
With the morrow I rise and run, 

Come what will of wind or of weather. 
This draught of Life when my Bride is won 
We '11 drink together." 

Thus the dead man stayed in his grave, 
Self-chosen, the dead man in his cave \ 
There he stayed, were he fool or knave, 
Or honest seeker who had not found : 
While the Prince outside was prompt to crave 
Sleep on the ground. 

" If she watches, go bid her sleep ; 
Bid her sleep, for the road is steep : 
He can sleep who holdeth her cheap, 

Sleep and wake and sleep again. 
Let him sow, one day he shall reap, 
Let him sow the grain. 

" When there blows a sweet garden rose, 
Let it bloom and wither if no man knows : 
But if one knows when the sweet thing blows. 

Knows, and lets it open and drop. 
If but a nettle his garden grows 
He hath earned the crop." 

Through his sleep the summons rang. 
Into his ears it sobbed and it sang. 



I30 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Slow he woke with a drowsy pang, 

Shook himself without much debate, 
Turned where he saw green branches hang, 
Started though late. 

For the black land was travelled o'er, 

He should see the grim land no more. J 

A flowering country stretched before " 

His face when the lovely day came back : 
He hugged the phial of Life he bore. 
And resumed his track. 

By willow courses he took his path, 
Spied what a nest the kingfisher hath. 
Marked the fields green to aftermath, 

Marked where the red-brown field-mouse ran, 
Loitered awhile for a deep-stream bath, 
Yawned for a fellow-man. 

Up on the hills not a soul in view, 
In the vale not many nor few ; 
Leaves, still leaves, and nothing new. 

It 's O for a second maiden, at least, 
To bear the flagon, and taste it too. 
And flavor the feast. 

Lagging he moved, and apt to swerve ; 
Lazy of limb, but quick of nerve. 
At length the water-bed took a curve. 
The deep river swept its bank-side bare ; 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 131 

Waters streamed from the hill-reserve, — ■ 
Waters here, waters there. 

High above, and deep below, 
Bursting, bubbling, swelling the flow, 
Like hill-torrents after the snow, — 

Bubbling, gurgling, in whirling strife. 
Swaying, sweeping, to and fro, — 
He must swim for his life. 

Which way? — which way? — his eyes grew dim 
With the dizzying whirl, — which way to swim ? 
The thunderous downshoot deafened him ; 

Half he choked in the lashing spray : 
Life is sweet, and the grave is grim, — 
Which way ? — which way ? 

A flash of light, a shout from the strand : 
" This way, — this way ; here lies the land ! " 
His phial clutched in one drowning hand ; 

He catches, — misses, — catches a rope ; 
His feet slip on the slipping sand : 
Is there Hfe ? — is there hope ? 

Just saved, without pulse or breath, — 
Scarcely saved from the gulp of death ; 
Laid where a willow shadoweth, — 

Laid where a swelling turf is smooth. 
(O Bride ! but the Bridegroom lingereth 
For all thy sweet youth.) 



132 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Kind hands do and undo, 

Kind voices whisper and coo : 

"I will chafe his hands," — "and I," — "and you 

Raise his head, put his hair aside." 
(If many laugh, one well may rue : 
Sleep on, thou Bride.) 

So the Prince was tended with care : 

One wrung foul ooze from his clustered hair j 

Two chafed his hands, and did not spare ; 

But one held his drooping head breast-high, 
Till his eyes oped, and at unaware 
They met eye to eye. 

O, a moon face in a shadowy place, 
And a light touch and a winsome grace, 
And a thrilling tender voice that says : 

" Safe from waters that seek the sea, — 
-Cold waters by rugged ways, — 
Safe with me." 

While overhead bird whistles to bird, 
And round about plays a gamesome herd : 
" Safe with us," — some take up the word, — 

" Safe with us, dear lord and friend : 
All the sweeter if long deferred 
Is rest in the end." 

Had he stayed to weigh and to scan. 
He had been more or less than a man : 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 133 

He did what a young man can, — 
Spoke of toil and an arduous way, — 
Toil to-morrow, while golden ran 
The sands of to-day. 

Slip past, slip fast, 

Uncounted hours from first to last, 

Many hours till the last is past. 

Many hours dwindling to one, — 
One hour whose die is cast. 
One last hour gone. 

Come, gone, — gone forever, — 
Gone as an unreturning river, — 
Gone as to death the merriest liver, — 
Gone as the year at the dying fall, — 
To-morrow, to-day, yesterday, never, — 
Gone once for all. 

Came at length the starting-day, 

With last words, and last, last words to say, 

AVith bodiless cries from far away, — 

Chiding wailing voices that rang 
Like a trumpet-call to the tug and fray ; 
And thus they sang : 

" Is there life ? — the lamp burns low ; 
Is there hope ? — the coming is slow : 
The promise promised so long ago, 
The long promise, has not been kept. 



134 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Does she live? — does she die? — she slumbers so 
Who so oft has wept. 

"Does she live ? — does she die ? — she languisheth 

As a lily drooping to death, 

As a drought-worn bird with failing breath, 

As a lovely vine wdthout a stay, 
As a tree whereof the owner saith, 
' Hew it down to-day.' " 

Stung by that word the Prince was fain 

To start on his tedious road again. 

He crossed the stream where a ford was plain, 

He clomb the opposite bank though steep, 
And swore to himself to strain and attain 
Ere he tasted sleep. 

Huge before him a mountain frowned 
With foot of rock on the valley ground, 
And head with snows incessant crowned, 
And a cloud mantle about its strength, 
And a path which the wild goat hath not found 
In its breadth and length. 

But he was strong to do and dare : 
If a host had withstood him there, 
He had braved a host with little care 

In his lusty youth and his pride. 
Tough to grapple though weak to snare. 
He comes, O Bride. 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 135 

Up he went where the goat scarce chngs, 
Up where the eagle folds her wings, 
Past the green line of living things, 

Where the sun cannot warm the cold, — 
•Up he went as a flame enrings 
Where there seems no hold. 

Up a fissure barren and black, 

Till the eagles tired upon his track, 

And the clouds were left behind his back, — 

Up till the utmost peak was past. 
Then he gasped for breath and his strength fell slack ; 
He paused at last. 

Before his face a valley spread 

Where fatness laughed, wine, oil, and bread, 

Where all fruit-trees their sweetness shed. 

Where all birds made love to their kind, 
Where jewels twinkled, and gold lay red 
And not hard to find. 

Midway down the mountain side 

(On its green slope the path was wide) 

Stood a house for a royal bride. 

Built all of changing opal stone. 
The royal palace, till now descried 
In his dreams alone. 

Less bold than in days of yore. 
Doubting now though never before. 



136 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Doubting he goes and lags the more : 

Is the time late ? does the day grow dim ? 
Rose, will she open the crimson core 
Of her heart to him ? 

Take heart of grace ! the potion of Life 
May go far to woo him a wife : 
If she frown, yet a lover's strife 

Lightly raised can be laid again : 
A hasty word is never the knife 
To cut love in twain. 

Far away stretched the royal land, 
Fed by dew, by a spice-wind fanned : 
Light labor more, and his foot would stand 

On the threshold, all labor done ; 
Easy pleasure laid at his hand, 
And the dear Bride won. 

His slackening steps pause at the gate, — 
Does she wake or sleep ? — the time is late, — 
Does she sleep now, or watch and wait ? 
She has watched, she has waited long, 
Watching athwart the golden grate 
With a patient song. 

Fling the golden portals wide. 
The Bridegroom comes to his promised Bride ; 
Draw the gold-stiff curtains aside, 
Let them look on each other's face, 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 137 

She in her meekness, he in his pride, — 
Day wears apace. 

Day is over, the day that wore. 

What is this that comes through the door, 

The face covered, the feet before ? 

This that coming takes his breath ; 
This Bride not seen, to be seen no more 
Save of Bridegroom Death 1 

Veiled figures carrying her 

Sweep by yet make no stir ; 

There is a smell of spice and myrrh, 

A bride-chant burdened with one name ; 
The bride-song rises steadier 
Than the torches' flame : 

" Too late for love, too late for joy, 

Too late, too late ! 
You loitered on the road too long, 

You trifled at the gate : » 

The enchanted dove upon her branch 

Died without a mate ; 
The enchanted princess in her tower 

Slept, died, behind the grate ; 
Her heart was starving all this while 
You made it wait. 

" Ten years ago, five years ago, 
One year ago, 



[38 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 

Even then you had arrived in time, 

Though somewhat slow ; 
Then you had known her Hving face 

Which now you cannot know : 
The frozen fountain would have leaped, 

The buds gone on to blow. 
The warm south wind would have awaked 
To melt the snow. 

" Is she fair now as she lies ? 

Once she was fair ; 
Meet queen for any kingly king, 

With gold-dust on her hair. 
Now these are poppies in her locks, 

White poppies she must wear ; 
Must wear a veil to shroud her face 

And the want graven there : 
Or is the hunger fed at length, 
Cast off the care ? 

" We never saw her with a smile 

Or with a frown ; 
Her bed seemed never soft to her, 

Though tossed of down ; 
She little heeded what she wore, 

Kirtle, or wreath, or gown ; 
We think her white brows often ached 

Beneath her crown. 
Till silvery hairs showed in her locks 

That used to be so brown. 



THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS. 139 

" We never heard her speak in haste : 

Her tones were sweet, 
And modulated just so much 

As it was meet : 
Her heart sat silent through the noise 

And concourse of the street. 
There was no hurry in her hands, 

No hurry in her feet ; 
There was no bliss drew nigh to her, 

That she might run to greet. 

" You should have wept her yesterday. 

Wasting upon her bed : 
But wherefore should you weep to-day 

That she is dead ? 
Lo, we who love weep not to-day, 

But crown her royal head. 
Let be these poppies that we strew, 

Your roses are too red : 
Let be these poppies, not for you 

Cut down and spread." 



I40 MAIDEN-SONG. 



MAIDEN-SONG. 

LONG ago and long ago, 
And long ago still, 
There dwelt three merry maidens, 

Upon a distant hill. 
One was tall Meggan, 

And one was dainty May, 
But one was fair Margaret, 

More fair than I can say, 
Long ago and long ago. 

When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, 

And when May pulled the brier, 
Half the birds would swoop to see. 

Half the beasts draw nigher ; 
Half the fishes of the streams 

Would dart up to admire : 
But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, 

Or poppy hot aflame, 
All the beasts and all the birds 

And all the fishes came 
To her hand more soft than snow. 

Strawberry leaves and May-dew 

In brisk morning air, 
Strawberry leaves and May-dew 

Make maidens fair. 



MAIDEN-SONG. 141 

" I go for strawberry-leaves," 

Meggan said one day : 
" Fair Margaret can bide at home, 

But you come with me, May; 
Up the hill and down the hill, 

Along the winding way. 
You and I are used to go." 

So these two fair sisters 

'Went with innocent will 
Up the hill and down again. 

And round the homestead hill : 
While the fairest sat at home, 

Margaret like a queen, 
Like a blush-rose, like the moon 

In her heavenly sheen. 
Fragrant-breathed as milky cow 

Or field of blossoming bean, 
Graceful as an ivy bough 

Born to cling and lean ; 
Thus she sat to sing and sew. 

When she raised her lustrous eyes 

A beast peeped at the door ; 
When she downward cast her eyes 

A fish gasped on the floor ; 
When she turned away her eyes 

A bird perched on the sill. 
Warbling out its heart of love. 

Warbling, warbling still, 
With pathetic plealiings low. 



142 MAIDEN-SONG. 

Light-foot May with Meggan 

Sought the choicest spot, 
Clothed with thyme-alternate grass : 

Then, while day waxed hot, 
Sat at ease to play and rest, 

A gracious rest and play ; 
The loveliest maidens near or far, 

When Margaret was away, 
Who sat at home to sing and sew. 

Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks. 

Wind-play tossed their hair, 
Creeping things among the grass 

Stroked them here and there ; 
Meggan piped a merry note, 

A fitful, wayward lay. 
While shrill as bird on topmost twig 

Piped merry May ; 
Honey-smooth the double flow. 

Sped a herdsman from the vale, 

Mounting like a flame. 
All on fire to hear and see 

With floating locks he came. 
Looked neither north nor south, 

Neither east nor west, 
But sat him down at Meggan's feet 

As love-bird on his nest. 
And wooed her with 5 silent awe, 



MAIDEN-SONG. 143 

With trouble not expressed ; 
She sang the tears into his eyes, 

The heart out of his breast : 
So he loved her, listening so. 

She sang the heart out of his breast, 

The words out of his tongue j 
Hand and foot and pulse he paused 

Till her song was sung. 
Then he spoke up from his place 

Simple words and true : 
" Scanty goods have I to give. 

Scanty skill to woo \ 
But I have a will to work. 

And a heart for you : 
Bid me stay or bid me go.'* 

Then Meggan mused within herself: 

" Better be first with him, 
Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits, 

Who shines my brightness dim, 
Forever second where she sits, 

However fair I be : 
I will be lady of his love, 

And he shall worship me j 
I will be lady of his herds 

And stoop to his degree. 
At home where kids and fatlings grow." 

Sped a shepherd from the height 
Headlong down to look, 



144 MAIDEN-SONG. 

(White lambs followed, lured by love 

Of their shepherd's crook) : 
He turned neither east nor west, 

Neither north nor south. 
But knelt right down to May, for love 

Of her sweet-singing mouth ; 
Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks 

In parching hillside drouth ; 
Forgot himself for weal or woe. 

Trilled her song and swelled her song 

With maiden coy caprice 
In a labyrinth of throbs, 

Pauses, cadences ; 
Clear-noted as a dropping brook, 

Soft-noted like the bees, 
Wild-noted as the shivering wind 

Forlorn through forest-trees : 
Love-noted like the wood-pigeon 

Who hides herself for love. 
Yet cannot keep her secret safe, 

But cooes and cooes thereof : 
Thus the notes rang loud or low. 

He hung breathless on her breath ; 

Speechless, who listened well ; 
Could not speak or think or wish 

Till silence broke the spell. 
Then he spoke, and spread his hands 

Pointing here and there : 



MAIDEN-SONG. 145 

" See my sheep and see the lambs, 

Twin lambs which they bare. 
All myself I offer you, 

All my flocks and care. 
Your sweet song hath moved me so." 

In her fluttered heart young May 

Mused a dubious while : 
" If he loves me as he says " — 

Her lips curved with a smile : 
" Where Margaret shines like the sun, 

I shine but like a moon ; 
If sister Meggan makes her choice 

I can make mine as soon ; 
At cockcrow we were sister-maids, 

We may be brides at noon." 
Said Meggan, "Yes"; May said not "No." 

Fair Margaret stayed alone at home, 

Awhile she sang her song. 
Awhile sat silent, then she thought : 

" My sisters loiter long." 
That sultry noon had waned away. 

Shadows had waxen great : 
" Surely," she thought within herself, 

" My sisters loiter late." 
She rose, and peered out at the door. 

With patient heart to wait, 
And heard a distant nightingale 

Complaining of its mate \ 



146 MAIDEN-SONG. 

Then down the garden slope she walked, 

Down to the garden gate, 
Leaned on the rail and waited so. 

The slope was lightened by her eyes 

Like summer lightning fair, 
Like rising of the haloed moon 

Lightened her glimmering hair, 
While her face lightened like the sun 

Whose dawn is rosy white. 
Thus crowned with maiden majesty 

She peered into the night. 
Looked up the hill and down the hill, 

To left hand and to right. 
Flashing like fire-flies to and fro. 

Waiting thus in weariness 

She marked the nightingale 
Telling, if any one would heed. 

Its old complaining tale. 
Then lifted she her voice and sang, 

Answering the bird : 
Then lifted she her voice and sang, 

Such notes were never heard 
From any bird when Spring 's in blow. 

The king of all that country 
Coursing far, coursing near. 

Curbed his amber-bitted steed, 
Coursed amain to hear; 



MAIDEN-SONG. " 147 

All his princes in his train, 

Squire, and knight, and peer, 
With his crown upon his head. 

His sceptre in his hand, 
Down he fell at Margaret's knees 

Lord king of all that land. 
To her highness bending low. 

Every beast and bird and fish 

Came mustering to the sound, 
Every man and every maid 

From miles of country round : 
Meggan on her herdsman's arm, 

With her shepherd, May, 
Flocks and herds trooped at their heels 

Along the hillside way ; 
No foot too feeble for the ascent, 

Not any head too gray; 
Some were swift and none were slow. 



So Margaret sang her sisters home 

In their marriage mirth ; 
Sang free birds out of the sky, 

Beasts along the earth. 
Sang up fishes of the deep, — 

All breathing things that move 
Sang from far and sang from near 

To her lovely love ; 
Sang together friend and foe ; 



148 JESSIE-CAMERON. 

Sang a golden-bearded king 

Straightway to her feet, 
Sang him silent where he knelt 

In eager anguish sweet. 
But when the clear voice died away, 

When longest echoes died, 
He stood up like a royal man 

And claimed her for his bride. 
So three maids were wooed and won 

In a brief May-tide, 
Long ago and long ago. 



JESSIE CAMERON. 

" T ESSIE, Jessie Cameron, 

I Hear me but this once," quoth he. 
" Good luck go with you, neighbor's son. 

But I 'm no mate for you," quoth she. 
Day was verging toward the night 

There beside the moaning sea, 
Dimness overtook the light 

There where the breakers be. 
" O Jessie, Jessie Cameron, 

I have loved you long and true." — 
" Good luck go with you, neighbor's son. 

But I 'm no mate for you." 



JESSIE CAMERON. 149 

She was a careless, fearless girl, 

And made her answer plain ; 
Outspoken she to earl or churl. 

Kind-hearted in the main, 
But somewhat heedless with her tongue. 

And apt at causing pain ; 
A mirthful maiden she and young. 

Most fair for bliss or bane. 
" O, long ago I told you so, 

I tell you so to-day : 
Go you your way, and let me go 

Just my own free way." 

The sea swept in with moan and foam 

Quickening the stretch of sand ; 
They stood almost in sight of home ; 

He strove to take her hand. 
" O, can't you take your answer then, 

And won't you understand ? 
For me you 're not the man of men, 

I 've other plans are planned. 
You 're good for Madge, or good for Cis, 

Or good for Kate, may be : 
But what 's to me the good of this 

While you 're not good for me ? " 

They stood together on the beach. 

They two alone. 
And louder waxed his urgent speeqh, 

His patience almost gone : 

J 



150 JESSIE CAMERON, 

" O, say but one kind word to me, 

Jessie, Jessie Cameron." — 
" I 'd be too proud to beg," quoth she, 

And pride was in her tone. 
And pride was in her Hfted head, 

And in her angry eye. 
And in her foot, which might have fled, 

But would not fly. 

Some say that he had gypsy blood. 

That in his heart was guile : 
Yet he had gone through fire and flood 

Only to win her smile. 
Some say his gran dam was a witch, 

A black witch from beyond the Nile, 
Who kept an image in a niche 

And talked with it the while. 
And by her hut far down the lane 

Some say they would not pass at night, 
Lest they should hear an unked strain 

Or see an unked sight. 

Alas, for Jessie Cameron ! — 

The sea crept moaning, moaning nigher 
She should have hastened to be gone, — 

The sea swept higher, breaking by her : 
She should have hastened to her home 

While yet the west was flushed with fire. 
But now her feet are in the foam. 

The sea-foam, sweeping higher. 



JESSIE CAMERON. 151 

O mother, linger at your door, 

And light your lamp to make it plain, 

But Jessie she comes home no more, 
No more again. 

They stood together on the strand, 

They only, each by each ; 
Home, her home, was close at hand. 

Utterly out of reach. 
Her mother in the chimney nook 

Heard a startled sea-gull screech, 
But never turned her head to look 

Towards the darkening beach : 
Neighbors here and neighbors there 

Heard one scream, as if a bird 
Shrilly screaming cleft the air : — 

That was all they heard. 

Jessie she comes home no more, 

Comes home never ; 
Her lover's step sounds at his door 

No more forever. 
And boats may search upon the sea 

And search along the river, 
But none know where the bodies be : 

Sea-winds that shiver. 
Sea-birds that breast the blast, 

Sea-waves swelling, 
Keep the secret first and last 

Of their dwelling. 



152 JESSIE CAMERON, 

Whether the tide so hemmed them round 

With its pitiless flow, 
That when they would have gone they found 

No way to go ; 
Whether she scorned him to the last 

With words flung to and fro, 
Or clung to him when hope was past, 

None will ever know : 
Whether he helped or hindered her. 

Threw up his life or lost it well, 
The troubled sea, for all its stir. 

Finds no voice to tell. 

Only watchers by the dying 

Have thought they heard one pray. 
Wordless, urgent ; and replying. 

One seem to say him nay : 
And watchers by the dead have heard 

A windy swell from miles away. 
With sobs and screams, but not a word 

Distinct for them to say : 
And watchers out at sea have caught 

Glimpse of a pale gleam here or there, 
Come and gone as quick as thought, 

Which might be hand or hair. 



SPRING QUIET. 153 



SPRING QUIET. 

GONE were but the Winter, 
Come were but the Spring, 
I would go to a covert 
Where the birds sing ; 

Where in* the white-thorn 

Singeth a thrush, 
And a robin sings 

In the holly-bush. 

Full of fresh scents 

Are the budding boughs, 

Arching high over 
A cool green house : 

Full of sweet scents, 

And whispering air 
Which sayeth softly : 

" We spread no snare ; 

" Here dwell in safety, 

Here dwell alone. 
With a clear stream 

And a mossy stone. 



154 THE POOR GHOST. 

"Here the sun shineth 

Most shadily ; 
Here is heard an echo 
Of the far sea, 
Though far off it be." 



THE POOR GHOST. 

"/^~A AVHENCE do you come, my dear friend, to 
V^ me, 

With your golden hair all fallen below your knee, 
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea. 
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea ? " 

" From the other world I come back to you. 

My locks are uncurled with dripping, drenching dew. 

You know the old, 'whilst I know the new : 

But to-morrow you shall know this too." 

" O, not to-morrow into the dark, I pray ; 
O, not to-morrow, too soon to go away : 
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay : 
Give me another year, another day." 

" Am I so changed in a day and a night 

That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright, 

Is fain to turn away to left or right. 

And cover up his eyes from the sight ? " 



THE POOR GHOST. 155 

"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend, 
I loved you for life, but life has an end ; 
Through sickness I was ready to tend ; 
But death mars all, which we cannot mend. 

" Indeed I loved you ; ,1 love you yet 

If you will stay where your bed is set, 

Where I have planted a violet 

Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet." 

" Life is gone, then love too is gone. 

It was a reed that I leant upon : 

Never doubt I will leave you alone 

And not wake you rattling bone with bone. 

" I go home alone to my bed. 

Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head, 

Roofed in with a load of lead, 

Warm enough for the forgotten dead. 

" But why did your tears soak through the clay, 
And why did your sobs wake me where I lay ? 
I was away, far enough away : 
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day." 



56 A PORTRAIT. 



A PORTRAIT, 



SHE gave up beauty in her tender youth, 
Gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways • 

She covered up her eyes lest they should gaze 
On vanity, and chose the bitter truth. 
Harsh towards herself, towards others full of ruth, 

Servant of servants, little known to praise. 

Long prayers and fasts trenched on her nights and 
days 
She schooled herself to sights and sounds uncouth. 
That with the poor and stricken she might make 

A home, until the least of all sufficed 
Her wants ; her own self learned she to forsake, 
Counting all earthly gain but hurt and loss. 
So with calm will she chose and bore the cross, 

And hated all for love of Jesus Christ. 

II. 

They knelt in silent anguish by her bed. 

And could not weep ; but calmly there she lay. 
All pain had left her ; and the sun's last ray 
Shone through upon her, warming into red 
The shady curtains. In her hi;art she said : 
" Heaven opens ; I leave these and go away : 
The Bridegroom calls, — shall the Bride seek to 
stay?" 



DREAM-LOVE. 157 

Then low upon her breast she bowed her head. 
O Uly-flower, O gem of priceless worth, 

O dove with patient voice and patient eyes, 
O fruitful vine amid a land of dearth, 

O maid replete with loving purities. 
Then bowedst down thy head with friends on earth 

To raise it with the saints in Paradise. 



DREAM-LOVE. 

YOUNG Love lies sleeping 
In May-time of the year, 
Among the lilies. 

Lapped in the tender light : 
White lambs come grazing, 

White doves come building there; 
And round about him 

The May-bushes are white. 

Soft moss the pillow 

For O, a softer cheek j 
Broad leaves cast shadow 

Upon the heavy eyes : 
There winds and waters 

Grow lulled and scarcely speak \ 
There twilight lingers 

The longest in the skies. 



58 DREAM-LOVE. 

Young Love lies dreaming ; 

But who shall tell the dream ? 
A perfect sunlight 

On rustling forest tips ; 
Or perfect moonlight 

Upon a rippling stream ; 
Or perfect silence, 

Or song of cherished lips. 

Burn odors round him 

To fill the drowsy air ; 
Weave silent dances 

Around him to and iro ; 
For O, in waking, 

The sights are not so fair, 
And song and silence 

Are not like these below. 

Young Love lies dreaming 

Till summer days are gone, — 
Dreaming and drowsing 

Away to perfect sleep : 
He sees the beauty 

Sun hath not looked upon, 
And tastes the fountain 

Unutterably deep. 

Him perfect music 

Doth hush unto his rest, 

And through the pauses 
The perfect silence calms : 



DREAM-LOVE, 159 

O, poor the voices 

Of earth from east to west, 
And poor earth's stillness 

Between her stately palms. 

Young Love lies drowsing 

Away to poppied death ; 
Cool shadows deepen 

Across the sleeping face : 
So fails the summer 

With warm, delicious breath ; 
And what hath autumn 

To give us in its place ? 

Draw close the curtains 

Of branched evergreen ; 
Change cannot touch them 

With fading fingers sere : 
Here the first violets 

Perhaps will bud unseen, 
And a dove, maybe. 

Return to nestle here. 



i6o TWICE. 



TWICE. 



I TOOK my heart in my hand 
(O my love, O my love), 
I said : Let me fall or stand, 

Let me live or die, 
But this once hear me speak 

(O my love, O my love) ; 
Yet a woman's words are weak ; 
You should speak, not I. 

You took my heart in your hand 

With a friendly smile, 
With a critical eye you scanned, 

Then set it down, 
And said : It is still unripe, 

Better wait awhile ; 
Wait while the skylarks pipe, 

Till the corn grows brown. 

As you set it down it broke, — 

Broke, but I did not wince ; 
I smiled at the speech you spoke. 

At your judgment that I heard • 
But I have not often smiled 

Since then, nor questioned since. 
Nor cared for corn-flowers wild. 

Nor sung with the singing bird. 



TWICE. i6i 



I take my heart in my hand, 
O my God, O my God, 

My broken heart in my hand : 
Thou hast seen, judge Thou. 

My hope was written on sand, 

my God, O my God ; 
Now let Thy judgment stand, — 

Yea, judge me now. 

This contemned of a man, 

This marred one heedless day 
This heart take Thou to scan 

Both within and without : 
Refine with fire its gold, 

Purge Thou its dross away, — 
Yea, hold it in Thy hold, 

Whence none can pluck it out. 

I take my heart in my hand, — 

1 shall not die, but live, — 
Before Thy face I stand ; 

I, for Thou callest such : 
All that I have I bring, 

All that I am I give. 
Smile Thou and I shall sing. 

But shall not question much. 



1 62 SONGS IN A CORNFIELD. 



SONGS IN A CORNFIELD 

A SONG in a cornfield 
Where corn begins to fall, 
AVhere reapers are reaping, 
Reaping one, reaping all. 
Sing pretty Lettice, 

Sing Rachel, sing May ; 
Only Marian cannot sing 
While her sweetheart 's away. 

Where is he gone to 

And why does he stay ? 
He came across the green sea 

But for a day, 
Across the deep green sea 

To help with the hay. 
His hair was curly yellow 

And his eyes were gray, 
He laughed a merry laugh , 

And said a sweet say. 
Where is he gone to 

That he comes not home ? 
To-day or to-morrow 

He surely will come. 
Let him haste to joy 

Lest he lag for sorrow. 
For one weeps to-day 

Who '11 not weep to-morrow : 



SONGS IN A CORNFIELD. 

To-day she must weep 

For gnawing sorrow, 
To-night she may sleep 

And not wake to-morrow. 

May sang with Rachel 

In the waxing warm weather, 
Lettice sang with them. 

They sang all together : — 

" Take the wheat in your arm 
Whilst day is broad above. 
Take the wheat to your bosom, 
But not a false false love. 
Out in the fields 

Summer heat gloweth, 
Out in the fields 

Summer wind bloweth, 
Out in the fields 

Summer friend showeth. 
Out in the fields 

Summer wheat groweth : 
But in the winter 

When summer heat is dead 
And summer wind has veered 

And summer friend has fled. 
Only summer wheat remaineth, 

White cakes and bread. 
Take the wheat, clasp the wheat 
That 's food for maid and dove 



1 64 SONGS IN A CORNFIELD. 

Take the wheat to your bosom, 
But not a false false love." 

A silence of full noontide heat 

Grew on them at their toil : 
The farmer's dog woke up from sleep, 

The green snake hid her coil 
Where grass stood thickest: bird and beast 

Sought shadows as they could, 
The reaping men and women paused 

And sat down where they stood ; 
They ate and drank and were refreshed. 

For rest from toil is good. 

While the reapers took their ease, 

Their sickles lying by, 
Rachel sang a second strain. 

And singing seemed to sigh ; — 

" There goes the swallow, — 
Could we but follow ! ♦ 

Hasty swallow stay, 
Point us out the way ; 
Look back swallow, turn back swallow, stop swallow. 

" There went the swallow, — 
Too late to follow : 

Lost our note of way. 

Lost our chance to-day ; 
Good by swallow, sunny swallow, wise swallow. 



SONGS IN A CORNFIELD. 165 

" After the swallow 
All sweet things follow: 

All things go their way, 

Only we must stay, 
Must not follow : good by swallow, good swallow." 

Then listless Marian raised her head 

Among the nodding sheaves ; 
Her voice was sweeter than that voice ; 

She sang like one who grieves : 
Her voice was sweeter than its wont 

Among the nodding sheaves ; 
All wondered while they heard her sing 

Like one who hopes and grieves : — • 

" Deeper than the hail can smite, 
Deeper than the frost can bite, 
Deep asleep through day and night, 
Our delight. 

" Now thy sleep no pang can break. 
No to-morrow bid thee wake. 
Not our sobs who sit and ache 
For thy sake. 

" Is it dark or light below ? 
O, but is it cold like snow ? 
Dost thou feel the green things grow 
Fast or slow ? 

K 



i66 A YEAR'S WINDFALLS. 

" Is it warm or cold beneath, 
O, but is it cold like death ? 
Cold like death, without a breatR, 
Cold like death ? " 

If he comes to-day 

He will find her weeping ; 

If he comes to-morrow 
He will find her sleeping; 

If he comes the next day- 
He '11 not find her at all, 

He may tear his curling hair, 
Beat his breast and c5ll. 



A YEAR'S WINDFALLS 

ON the wind of January 
Down flits the snow, 
Travelling from the frozen North 

As cold as it can blow. 
Poor robin redbreast. 

Look where he comes ; 
Let him in to feel your fire, 
And toss him of your crumbs. 

On the wind in February 
Snow-flakes float still, 



A YEAR'S WINDFALLS. 167 

Half inclined to turn to rain, 

Nipping, dripping, chill. 
Then the thaws swell the streams, 

And swollen rivers swell, the sea:- 
If the winter ever ends 

How pleasant it will be. 

In the wind of windy March 

The catkins drop down, 
Curly, caterpillar-like. 

Curious green and brown. 
With concourse of nest-building birds 

And leaf-buds by the way, 
We begin to think of flowers 

And life and nuts some day. 

With the gusts of April 

Rich fruit-tree blossoms fall, 
On the hedged-in orchard-green, 

From the southern wall. 
Apple-trees and pear-trees 

Shed petals white or pink. 
Plum-trees and peach-trees ; 

While sharp showers sink and sink. 

Little brings the May breeze 

Beside pure scent of flowers. 
While all things wax and nothing wane? 

In lengthening daylight hours. 



i68 A YEAR'S WINDFALLS. 

Across the hyacinth beds 

The wind lags warm and sweet, 

Across the hawthorn tops, 
Across the blades of wheat. 

In the wind of sunny June 

Thrives the red rose crop, 
Every day fresh blossoms blow 

While the first leaves drop ; 
White rose and yellow rose 

And moss-rose choice to find, 
And the cottage cabbage-rose 

Not one whit behind. 

On the blast of scorched July 

Drives the pelting hail, 
From thunderous lightning-clouds, that blot 

Blue heaven grown lurid-pale. 
Weedy waves are tossed ashore, 

Sea-things strange to sight 
Gasp upon the barren shore 

And fade away in light. 

In the parching August wind, 

Cornfields bow the' head. 
Sheltered in round valley depths. 

On low hills outspread. 
Early leaves drop loitering down 

Weightless on the breeze. 
First-fruits of the year's decay 

From the withering trees. 



A YEAR'S WINDFALLS. 169 

In brisk wind of September 

The heavy-headed fruits 
Shake upon their bending boughs 

And drop from the shoots ; 
Some glow golden in the sun, 

Some show green and streaked 
Some set forth a purple bloom, 

Some blush rosy-cheeked. 

In strong blast of October 

At the equinox, 
Stirred up in his hollow bed 

Broad ocean rocks ; 
Plunge the ships on his bosom, 

Leaps and plunges the foam, — 
It 's O for mothers' sons at sea, 

That they were safe at home ! 

In slack wind of November 

The fog forms and shifts ; 
All the world comes out again 

When the fog lifts. 
Loosened from their sapless twigs 

Leaves drop with every gust ; 
Drifting, rustling, out of sight 

In the damp or dust. 

Last of all, December, 

The year's sands nearly run, 



I70 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 

Speeds on the shortest day, 

Curtails the sun ; 
With its bleak raw wind 

Lays the last leaves low, 
Brings back the nightly frosts. 

Brings back the snow. 



THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 



H 



OW comes it, Flora, that, whenever we 
Play cards together, you invariably, 
However the pack parts. 
Still hold the Queen of Hearts ? 



I 've scanned you with a scrutinizing gaze, 
Resolved to fathom these your secret ways : 

But, sift them as I will. 

Your ways are secret still. 

I cut and shuffle ; shuffle, cut, again ; 

But all my cutting, shuffling, proves in vain : 

Vain hope, vain forethought, too _, 

That Queen still falls to you. 

I dropped her once, prepense ; but, ere the deal 
Was dealt, your instinct seemed her loss to feel : 
"There should be one card more," 
You said, and searched the floor. 



ONE DAY. 171 

I cheated once : I made a private notch 

In Heart-Queen's back, and kept a lynx-eyed watch : 

Yet such another back 

Deceived me in the pack : 

The Queen of Clubs assumed by arts unknown 
An imitative dint that seemed my own ; 

This notch, not of my doing, 

Misled me to my ruin. 

It baffles me to puzzle out the clew, 

Which must be skill, or craft, or luck in you : 

Unless, indeed, it be 

Natural affinity. 



ONE DAY. 

I WILL tell you when they met : 
In the limpid days of Spring ; 
Elder boughs were budding yet. 
Oaken boughs looked wintry still, 
But primrose and veined violet 
In the mossful turf were set. 
While meeting birds made haste to sing 
And build with right good will. 

I will tell you when they parted : 

When plenteous Autumn sheaves were brown, 



172 A BIRD'S -EVE VIE IV. 

Then they parted heavy-hearted ; 
The full rejoicing sun looked down 
As grand as in the days before ; 
Only they had lost a crown ; 
Only to them those days of yore 
Could come back nevermore. 

When shall they meet ? I cannot tell, 
Indeed, when they shall meet again, 
Except some day in Paradise : 
For this they wait, one waits in pain. 
Beyond the sea of death love lies 
Forever, yesterday, to-day ; 
Angels shall ask them, " Is it well?" 
And they shall answer, " Yea." 



A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW 

CROAK, croak, croak," 
Thus the Raven spoke. 
Perched on his crooked tree 
As hoarse as hoarse could be. 
Shun him and fear him. 
Lest the Bridegroom hear him ; 
Scout him and rout him 
With his ominous eye about him. 

Yet, " Croak, croak, croak," 
Still tolled from the oak ; 



A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW, 173 

From that fatal black bird, 
Whether heard or unheard : 
" O ship upon the high seas, 
Freighted with lives and spices, 
Sink, O ship," croaked the Raven : 
" Let the Bride mount to heaven." 

In a far foreign land 

Upon the wave-edged sand. 

Some friends gaze wistfully 

Across the glittering sea. 

" If we could clasp our sister," 

Three say, " now we have missed her ! " 

" If we could kiss our daughter ! " 

Two sigh across the water. 

O, the ship sails fast, 

With silken flags at the mast, 

And the home-wind blows soft ; 

But a Raven sits aloft, 

Chuckling and choking, 

Croaking, croaking, croaking : — 

Let the beacon-fire blaze higher ; 

Bridegroom, watch ; the Bride draws nigher. 

On a sloped sandy beach, 

AVhich the spring-tide billows reach, 

Stand a watchful throng 

Who have hoped and waited long : 



74 A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW. 

" Fie on this ship, that tarries 
With the priceless freight it carries. 
The time seems long and longer : 
O languid wind, wax stronger " ; — 

Whilst the Raven perched at ease 
Still croaks and does not cease, 
One monotonous note 
Tolled from his iron throat : 
" No father, no mother, 
But I have a sable brother : 
He sees where ocean flows to, 
And he knows what he knows, too." 

A day and a night 

They kept watch worn and white ; 

A night and a day 

For the swift ship on its way : 

For the Bride and her maidens, — 

Clear chimes the bridal cadence, — 

For the tall ship that never 

Hove in sight forever. 

On either shore, some 
Stand in grief loud or dumb 
As the dreadful dread 
Grows certain though unsaid. 
For laughter there is weeping. 
And waking instead of sleeping. 
And a desperate sorrow 
Morrow after morrow. 



A BIRD'S- EVE VIEW. 175 

O, who knows the truth, 

How she perished in her youth, 

And Uke a queen went down, 

Pale in her royal crown ? 

How she went up to glory 

From the sea-foam chill and hoary, 

From the sea-depth black and riven 

To the calm that is in Heaven ? 

They went down, all the crew, 
The silks and spices too, 
The great ones and the small, 
One and all, one and all. 
Was it through stress of weather. 
Quicksands, rocks, or all together ? 
Only the Raven knows this, 
And he will not disclose this. — 

After a day and year 

THe bridal bells chime clear; 

After a year and a day 

The Bridegroom is brave and gay : 

Love is sound, faith is rotten ; 

The old Bride is forgotten : — 

Two ominous Ravens only 

Remember, black and lonely. 



176 LIGHT LOVE. 



LIGHT LOVE. 

"/^ SAD thy lot before I came, 
V^ But sadder when I go ; 
My presence but a flash of flame, 
A transitory glow 

Between two barren wastes like snow. 
What wilt thou do when I am gone, 

Where wilt thou rest, my dear? 
For cold thy bed to rest upon. 
And cold the falling year 
Whose withered leaves are lost and sere." 

She hushed the baby at her breast, 
She rocked it on her knee : 

" And I will rest my lonely rest, 
Warmed with the thought of thee, 
Rest lulled to rest by memory." 

She hushed the baby with her kiss. 
She hushed it with her breast : 

" Is death so sadder much than this, — 
Sure death that builds a nest 
For those who elsewhere cannot rest ? " 

" O sad thy note, my mateless dove. 

With tender nestling cold ; 
But hast thou ne'er another love 



LIGHT LOVE, 177 

Left from the days of old, 

To build thy nest of silk and gold, 

To warm thy paleness to a blush 
When I am far away, — 

To warm thy coldness to a flush^ 
And turn thee back to May, 
And turn thy twilight back to day ? " 

She did not answer him again, 

But leaned her face aside. 
Wrung with 'the pang of shame and pain, 

And sore with wounded pride : 

He knew his very soul had lied. 
She strained his baby in her arms. 

His baby to her heart : 
" Even let it go, the love that harms : 

We twain will never part ; 

Mine own, his own, how dear thou art." 



" Now never tease me, tender-eyed, 

Sigh-voiced," he said in scorn : 
" For nigh at hand there blooms a bride, 

My bride before the morn ; 

Ripe-blooming she, as thou forlorn. 
Ripe-blooming she, my rose, my peach ; 

She wooes me day and night : 
I watch her tremble in my reach ; 

She reddens, my delight ; 

She ripens, reddens in my sight." 



178 LIGHT LOVE. 

" And is she like a sunlit rose ? 

Am I like withered leaves ? 
Haste where thy spiced garden blows : 

But in bare Autumn eves 

Wilt thou have store of harvest sheaves ? 
Thou leavest love, true love behind, 

To seek a love as true ; 
Go, seek in haste ; but wilt thou find ? 

Change new again for new ; 

Pluck up, enjoy, — yea, trample too. 

" Alas for her, poor faded rose, 

Alas for her, like me. 
Cast down and trampled in the snows." 

" Like thee ? nay, not like thee : 

She leans, but from a guarded tree. 
Farewell, and dream as long ago. 

Before we ever met : 
Farewell ; my swift-paced horse seems slow." 

She raised her eyes, not wet 

But hard, to Heaven ; " Does God forget ? " 



A DREAM. 179 



A DREAM. 

SONNET. 

ONCE in a dream (for once I dreamed of you) 
We stood together in an open field ; 
Above our heads two swift-winged pigeons wheeled, 
Sporting at ease and courting full in view. 
When loftier still a broadening darkness flew, 
Down-swooping, and a ravenous hawk revealed ; 
Too weak to fight, too fond to fly, they yield ; 
So farewell life and love and pleasures new. 
Then, as their plumes fell fluttering to the ground. 
Their snow-white plumage flecked with crimson 
drops, 
I wept, and thought I turned towards you to 
weep : 
But you were gone ; while rustling hedgerow tops 
Bent in a wind which bore to me a sound 

Of far-off piteous bleat of lambs and sheep. 



i8o A RING POSY, 



J 



A RING POSY. 

ESS and Jill are pretty girls, 

Plump and well to do, 
In a cloud of windy curls : 

Yet I know who 
Loves me more than curls or pearls. 

I 'm not pretty, not a bit ; 

Thin and sallow-pale ; 
When I trudge along the street 

I don't need a veil : 
Yet I have one fancy hit. 

Jess and Jill can trill and sing 

With a flute-like voice, 
Dance as light as bird on wing, 

Laugh for careless joys : 
Yet it 's I who wear the ring. 

Jess and Jill will mate some day, 

Surely, surely ; 
Ripen on to June through May, 
While the sun shines make their hay, 

Slacken steps demurely : 
Yet even there I lead the way. 



BEAUTY IS VAIN. i8i 



BEAUTY IS VAIN. 

WHILE roses are so red, 
While lilies are so white, 
Shall a woman exalt her face 
Because it gives delight ? 
She 's not so sweet as a rose, 
A lily 's straighter than she. 
And if she were as red or white 
She 'd be but one of three. 

Whether she flush in love's summer 

Or in its winter grow pale, 
Whether she flaunt her beauty 

Or hide it away in a veil, 
Be she red or white. 

And stand she erect or bowed. 
Time will win the race he runs with her 

And hide her away in a shroud. 



[82 LADY MAGGIE. 



LADY MAGGIE 



YOU must not call me Maggie, you must not call 
me Dear, 
For I 'm Lady of the Manor now stately to see ; 
And if there comes a babe, as there may some happy 
year, 
'T will be little lord or lady at my knee. 

O, but what ails you, my sailor cousin Phil, 

That you shake and turn white like a cockcrow ghost? 

You 're as white as I turned once down by the mill, 
When one told me you and ship and crew were lost : 

Philip my playfellow, when we were boy and girl 
(It was the Miller's Nancy told it to me), 

Philip with the merry life in lip and curl, 
Philip my playfellow drowned in the sea ! 

I thought I should have fainted, but I did not faint ; 

I stood stunned at the moment, scarcely sad, 
Till I raised my wail of desolate complaint 

For you, my cousin, brother, all I had. 

They said I looked so pale, — some say so fair, — 
My lord stopped in passing to soothe me back to life : 

I know I missed a ringlet from my hair 
Next morning ; and now I am his wife. 



LADY MAGGIE. 183 

Look at my gown, Philip, and look at my ring, 
I 'm all crimson and gold from top to toe : 

All day long I sit in the sun and sing, 

Where in the sun red roses blush and blow. 



And I 'm the rose of roses says my lord ; 

And to him I 'm more than the sun in the sky, 
While I hold him fast with the golden cord 

Of a curl, with the eyelash of an eye. 

His mother said " fie," and his sisters cried " shame," 
His high-born ladies cried "shame" from their place : 

They said " fie " when they only heard my name, 
But fell silent when they saw my face. 

Am I so fair, Philip ? Philip, did you think 
I was so fair when we played boy and girl, 

Where blue forget-me-nots bloomed on the brink 
Of our stream which the mill-wheel sent awhirl ? 

If I was fair then sure I 'm fairer now. 
Sitting where a score of servants stand, 

With a coronet on high days for my brow 
And almost a sceptre for my hand. 

You 're but a sailor, Philip, weatherbeaten brown, 
A stranger on land and at home on the sea. 

Coasting as best you may from town to town : 
Coasting along do you often think of me ? 



i84 WHAT WOULD I GIVE? 

I 'm a great lady in a sheltered bower, 

With hands grown white through having naught to 
do: 
Yet sometimes I think of you hour after hour 

Till I nigh wish myself a child with you. 



WHAT WOULD I GIVE? 



WHAT would I give for a heart of flesh to warm 
me through, 
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I 

do \ 
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of 
all. 



What would I give for words, if only words would 

come; 
But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb : 
O, merry friends, go your way, I have never a word 

to say. 

What would I give for tears, not smiles but scalding 

tears. 
To wash the black mark clean, and to thaw the frost 

of years, 
To wash the stain ingrain and to make me clean again. 



SUMMER. 185 



THE BOURNE. 

UNDERNEATH the growing grass, 
Underneath the Hving flowers, 
Deeper than the sound of showers : 
There we shall not count the hours 
By the shadows as they pass. 

Youth and health will be but vain, 
Beauty reckoned of no worth : 
There a very little girth 
Can hold round what once the earth 

Seemed too narrow to contain. 



SUMMER. 

WINTER is cold-hearted, 
Spring is yea and nay, 
Autumn is a weathercock 

Blown every way : 
Summer days for me 
When every leaf is on its tree ; 

AVhen Robin 's not a beggar. 
And Jenny Wren 's a bride, 



SUMMER. 

And larks hang singing, singing, singing, 

Over the wheat-fields wide. 

And anchored lilies ride, 
And the pendulum spider 

Swings from side to side, 

And blue-black beetles transact business, 

And gnats fly in a host. 
And furry caterpillars hasten 

That no time be lost. 
And moths grow fat and thrive, 
And ladybirds arrive. 

Before green apples blush. 

Before green nuts embrown, 
Why, one day in the country 

Is worth a month in town ; 

Is worth a day and a year 
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion 

That days drone elsewhere. 



AUTUMN. 187 



AUTUMN. 



I 



DWELL alone, — I dwell alone, alone, 
Whilst full my river flows down to the sea, 



Gilded with flashing boats 



That bring no friend to me : 
O love-songs, gurgling from a hundred throats, 
O love-pangs, let me be. 

Fair fall the freighted boats which gold and stone 

And spices bear to sea : 
Slim, gleaming maidens swell their mellow notes, 
Love-promising, entreating, — 
Ah ! sweet, but fleeting, — 
Beneath the shivering, snow-white sails. 
Hush ! the wind flags and fails, — 
Hush ! they will lie becalmed in sight of strand, — 

Sight of my strand, where I do dwell alone \ 
Their songs wake singing echoes in my land, — 
They cannot hear me moan. 

One latest, solitary swallow flies 

Across the sea, rough autumn-tempest tost. 
Poor bird, shall it be lost ? 
Dropped down into this uncongenial sea, 
With no kind eyes 
To watch it while it dies, 
Unguessed, uncared for, free : 



1 88 AUTUMN. 

Set free at last, 
The short pang past, 
In sleep, in death, in dreamless sleep locked fast. 

Mine avenue is all a growth of oaks, 

Some rent by thunder-strokes, 

Some rustling leaves and acorns in the breeze : 
Fair fall my fertile trees. 

That rear their goodly heads, and live at ease. 

A spider's web blocks all mine avenue ; 
He catches down and foolish painted flies, 
That spider wary and wise. 
Each morn it hangs a rainbow strung with dew 
Betwixt boughs green with sap, 
So fair, few creatures guess it is a trap : 
I will not mar the web. 
Though sad I am to see the small lives ebb. 

It shakes, — my trees shake ; for a wind is roused 
In cavern where it housed : 
Each white and quivering sail, 
Of boats among the water leaves 

Hollows and strains in the full-throated gale : 
Each maiden sings again, — 

Each languid maiden, whom the calm 

Had lulled to sleep with rest and spice and balm. 
Miles down my river to the sea 

They float and wane. 
Long miles away from me. 



THE GHOSTS PETITION. 189 

Perhaps they say : " She grieves, 

Uplifted, like a beacon, on her tower." 
Perhaps they say : " One hour 
More, and we dance among the golden sheaves." 
Perhaps they say : " One hour 
More, and we stand. 
Face to face, hand in hand ; 
Make haste, O slack gale, to the looked-for land ! " 

My trees are not in flower, 
I have no bower, 
And gusty creaks my tower. 
And lonesome, very lonesome, is my strand. 



THE GHOST'S PETITION. 

" 'T^HERE 's a footstep coming : look out and 
i see." — 

" The leaves are falling, the wind is calling ; 
No one cometh across the lea." — 

"There's a footstep coming : O sister, look." — 

" The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes ; 
No one cometh across the brook." — 

" But he promised that he would come : 
To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow, 
He must keep his word, and must come home. 



190 THE GHOSTS PETITION. 

" For he promised that he would come : 

His word was given ; from earth or heaven, 
He must keep his word, and must come home. 

" Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane ; 

You can slumber, who need not number 
Hour after hour, in doubt and pain. 

" I shall sit here awhile, and M'atch ; 

Listening, hoping, for one hand groping 
In deep shadow to find the latch." 

After the dark, and before the light. 

One lay sleeping ; and one sat weeping. 
Who had watched and wept the weary night. 

After the night, and before the day. 

One lay sleeping ; and one sat weeping, — 
Watching, weeping for one away. 

There came a footstep climbing the stair \ 

Some one standing out on the landing 
Shook the door like a puff of air, — 

Shook the door, and in he passed. 

Did he enter ? In the room centre 
Stood her husband : the door shut fast. 

" O Robin, but you are cold, — 

Chilled with the night-dew : so lily-white 
Look like a stray lamb from our fold. 



THE GHOSTS PETITION. 191 

" O Robin, but you are late : 

Come and sit near me, — sit here and cheer me." — 
(Blue the flame burnt in the grate.) 

" I^ay not down your head on my breast : 

I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you 
In the shelter that you love best. 

" Feel not after my clasping hand : 

I am but a shadow, come from the meadow 
Where many lie, but no tree can stand. 

" We are trees which have shed their leaves : 

Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there ; 
Only I grieve for my wife who grieves. 

" I could rest if you would not moan 
Hour after hour ; I have no power 
To shut my ears where I lie alone. 

" I could rest if you would not cry ; 

But there 's no sleeping while you sit weeping, — 
Watching, weeping so bitterly." — 

" Woe 's me ! woe 's me ! for this I have heard. 

O, night of sorrow ! — O, black to-morrow ! 
Is it thus that you keep your word ? 

" O you who used so to shelter me 

Warm from the least wind, — why, now the east wind 
Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see. 



192 THE GHOSTS PETITION. 

" O my husband of flesh and blood, 

For whom my mother I left, and brother, 
And all I had, accounting it good, 

" What do you do there, underground, 

In the dark hollow ? I 'm fain to follow. 
What do you do there ? — what have you found ? " • 

" What I do there I must not tell ; 

But I have plenty. Kind wife, content ye : 
It is well with us, — it is well. 

" Tender hand hath made our nest ; 

Our fear is ended, our hope is blended 
With present pleasure, and we have rest." — 

" O, but Robin, I 'm fain to come. 

If your present days are so pleasant j 
For my days are so wearisome. 

" Yet I '11 dry my tears for your sake : 

Why should I tease you, who cannot please you 
Any more with the pains I take ? " 



MEMORY. 193 



MEMORY 



I NURSED it in my bosom while it lived, 
I hid it in my heart when it was dead ; 
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved 
Alone and nothing said. 

I shut the door to face the naked truth, 

I stood alone, — I faced the truth alone, 
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth 
Till first and last were shown. 

I took the perfect balances and weighed ; 

No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise ; 
Weighed, found it wanting : not a word I said, 
But silent made my choice. 

None know the choice I made ; I make it still. 

None know the choice I made and broke my heart. 
Breaking mine idol : I have braced my will 
Once, chosen for once my part. 

I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold, 

Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live. 
My heart dies inch by inch ; the time grows old, 
Grows old in which I grieve. 



194 MEMORY. 



II. 



I have a room wherein to no one enters 

Save I myself alone : 

There sits a blessed memory on a throne, 
There my life centres. 

While winter comes and goes — O tedious comer I 

And while its nip-wind blows ; 

While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose 
Of lavish summer. 

If any should force entrance he might see there 

One buried yet not dead, 

Before whose face I no more bow my head 
Or bend my knee there ; 

But often in my worn life's autumn weather 
I watch there with clear eyes, 
And think, how it will be in Paradise 

When we 're together. 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 195 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 

I A PRINCESS, king-descended, decked with 
, jewels, gilded, drest, 
Would rather be a peasant with her baby at her breast, 
For all I shine so like the sun, and am purple like the 
west. 

Two and two my guards behind, two and two before, 
Two and two on either hand, they guard me ever- 
more ; 
Me, poor dove, that must not coo, — eagle, that must 
not soar. 

All my fountains cast up perfumes, all my gardens 

grow 
Scented woods and foreign spices, with all flowers in 

blow 
That are costly, out of season as the seasons go. 

All my walls are lost in mirrors, whereupon I trace 
Self to right hand, self to left hand, self in every place, 
Self-same solitary figure, self-same seeking face. 

Then I have an ivory chair high to sit upon, 

Almost like my father's chair, which is an ivory throne ; 

There I sit uplift and upright, there I sit alone. 



196 A ROYAL PRINCESS. 

Alone by day, alone by night, alone days without end ; 
My father and my mother give me treasures, search 

and spend — 
O my father ! O my mother ! have you ne'er a friend ? 

As I am a lofty princess, so my father is 
A lofty king, accomplished in all kingly subtilties. 
Holding in his strong right hand world-kingdoms' 
balances. 

He has quarrelled with his neighbors, he has scourged 

his foes ; 
Vassal counts and princes follow where his pennon 

goes. 
Long-descended valiant lords whom the vulture 

knows. 

On whose track the vulture swoops, when they ride 

in state 
To break the strength of armies and topple down 

the great : 
Each of these my courteous servant, none of these 

my mate. 

My father counting up his strength sets down with 

equal pen 
So many head of cattle, head of horses, head of 

men; 
These for slaughter, these for breeding, with the how 

and when. 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 197 

Some to work on roads, canals ; some to man his ships ; 
Some to smart in mines beneath sharp overseers' 

whips ; 
Some to trap fur-beasts in lands where utmost winter 

nips. 

Once it came into my heart and whelmed me like a 

flood, 
That these too are men and women, human flesh and 

blood ; 
Men with hearts and men with souls, though trodden 

down like mud. 

Our feasting was not glad that night, our music was 

not gay ; 
On my mother's graceful head I marked a thread of 

gray, 
My father frowning at the fare seemed every dish to 

weigh. 

I sat beside them sole princess in my exalted place. 
My ladies and my gentlemen stood by me on the dais : 
A mirror showed me I look old and haggard in the 
face; 

It showed me that my ladies all are fair to gaze ujDon, 
Plump, plenteous-haired, to every one love's secret 

lore is known, 
They laugh by day, they sleep by night ; ah me, what 
a throne ? 

M 



igS A ROYAL PRIXCESS. 

The singing men and women sang that night as usual, 
The dancers danced in pairs and sets, but music had 

a fall, 
A melancholy windy fall as at a funeral. 

Amid the toss of torches to my chamber back we 

swept ; 
My ladies loosed my golden chain; meantime I could 

ha\'e wept 
To think of some in galling chains whether they 

waked or slept. 

I took my bath of scented milk, delicately waited on, 
They burned sweet things for my delight, cedar and 

cinnamon. 
They lit my shaded silver lamp and left me there 

alone. 

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it 

said : 
" Men are clamoring, women, children, clamoring ^ 

be fed ; 
Men like famished dogs are howling in the streets for 

bread." 

So two whispered by my door, not thinking I could 

hear, 
Vulgar, naked truth, ungamished for a royal ear ; 
Fit for cooping in the background, not to stalk so 

near. 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 199 

But I strained my utmost sense to catch this truth, 

and mark : 
" There are families out grazing like cattle in the park." 
" A pair of peasants must be saved even if we build 

an ark." 

A merry jest, a merry laugh, each strolled upon his 

way j 
One was my page, a lad I reared and bore with day 

by day ; 
One was my youngest maid, as sweet and white as 

cream in May. 

Other footsteps followed softly with a weightier tramp ; 
Voices said : " Picked soldiers have been summoned 

from the camp 
To quell these base-born ruffians who make free to 

howl and stamp." 

" Howl and stamp ? " one answered : " They made 

free to hurl a stone 
At the minister's state coach, well aimed and stoutly 

thrown." 
" There 's work, then, for the soldiers, for this rank 

crop must be mown." 

" One I saw, a poor old fool with ashes on his head, 
AVhimpering because a girl had snatched his crust of 

bread : 
Then he dropped ; when some one raised him, it 

turned out he was dead." 



200 A ROYAL PRINCESS. 

" After us the deluge," was retorted with a laugh : 
" If bread 's the staff of life, they must walk without a 

staff." 
" While I 've a loaf they 're welcome to my blessing 

and the chaff." 



These passed. The king : stand up. Said my father 

with a smile : 
" Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you 

awhile, 
She 's sad to day, and who but you her sadness can 

beguile .? " 

He too left me. Shall I touch my harp now while I 

wait, — 
(I hear them doubling guard below before our palace 

gate, — ) 
Or shall I work the last gold stitch into my veil of 

state ; 

Or shall my woman stand and read some unimpas- 

sioned scene, 
There 's music of a lulling sort in words that pause 

between ; 
Or shall she merely fan me while I wait here for the 

queen ? 

Again I caught my father's voice in sharp word of 
command : 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 201 

" Charge ! " a clash of steel : " Charge again, the reb- 
els stand. 

Smite and spare not, hand to hand ; smite and spare 
not, hand to hand." 

There swelled a tumult at the gate, high voices wax- 
ing higher ; 
A flash of red reflected light lit the cathedral spire ; 
I heard a cry for faggots, then I heard a yell for fire. 

" Sit and roast there with your meat, sit and bake 

there with your bread. 
You who sat to see us starve," one shrieking woman 

said: 
" Sit on your throne and roast with your crown upon 

your head." 

Nay, this thing will I do, while my mother tarrieth, 
I will take my fine spun gold, but not to sew therewith, 
I will take my gold and gems, and rainbow fan and 
wreath ; 

With a ransom in my lap, a king's ransom in my hand, 
I will go down to this people, will stand face to face, 

will stand 
Where they curse king, queen, and princess of this 

cursed land. 

They shall take all to buy them bread, take all I have 
to give ; 



202 SHALL / FORGET? 

I, if I perish, perish j they to-day shall eat and 
live; 

I, if I perish, perish ; that 's the goal I half con- 
ceive : 

Once to speak before the world, rend bare my heart 

and show 
The lesson I have learned which is death, is life, to 

know. 
I, if I perish, perish ; in the name of God I go. 



SHALL I FORGET? 

SHALL I forget on this side of the grave ? 
I promise nothing : you must wait and see, 
Patient and brave. 
(O my soul, watch with him and he with me.) 

Shall I forget in peace of iParadise ? 

I promise nothing : follow, friend, and see, 

Faithful and wise. 
(O my soul, lead the way he walks with me.) 



VANITY OF VANITIES. 203 



VANITY OF VANITIES. 

SONNET. 

AH, woe is me for pleasure that is vain, 
Ah, woe is me for glory that is past : 

Pleasure that bringeth sorrow at the last, 
Glory that at the last bringeth no gain ! 
So saith the sinking heart ', and so again 

It shall say till the might}' angel-blast 

Is blown, making the sun and moon aghast 
And showering down the stars like sudden rain. 
And evermore men shall go fearfully. 

Bending beneath their weight of heaviness ; 
And ancient men shall lie down wearily, 

And strong men shall rise up in weariness ; 
Yea, even the young shall answer sighingly, 

Saying one to another : How vain it is ! 



204 L. E. L. 



L. E. L. 



'Whose heart was breaking for a little love." 

E. B. Browning. 



DOWN-stairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all 
But in my solitary room above 
I turn my face in silence to the wall ; 
My heart is breaking for a little love. 
Though winter frosts are done, 
And birds pair every one, 
And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun. 

I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown, 

I find no nest, while nests are in the grove : 
Woe 's me for mine own heart that dwells alone, 
My heart that breaketh for a little love. 
While golden in the sun 
Rivulets rise and run. 
While lilies bud, for springtide is begun. 

All love, are loved, save only I ; their hearts 

Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof: 
They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts, 
My heart is breaking for a little love. 
While beehives wake and whirr, 
And rabbit thins his fur. 
In living spring that sets the world astir. 



L. E. L. 205 

I deck myself with silks and jewelry, 

I plume myself like any mated dove : 
They praise my- rustling show, and never see 
My heart is breaking for a little love. 
While sprouts green lavender 
With rosemary and myrrh, 
For in quick spring the sap is all astir. 

Perhaps some saints in glory guess the truth, 
Perhaps some angels read it as they move, 
And cry one to another full of ruth, 

" Her heart is breaking for a little love." 
Though other things have birth, 
And leap and sing for mirth, 
When spring-time wakes and clothes and feeds the 
earth. 

Yet saith a saint : " Take patience for thy scathe " ; 

Yet saith an angel : " Wait, for thou shalt prove 
True best is last, true life is born of death, 
O thou, heart-brokeVi for a little love. 
Then love shall fill thy girth, 
And love make fat thy dearth, 
When new spring builds new heaven and clean new 
earth." 



2o6 LIFE AND DEATH. 



LIFE AND DEATH. 

LIFE is not sweet. One day it will be sweet 
To shut our e3'es and die : 
Nor feel the wild-flowers blow, nor birds dart by 

With flitting butterfly, 
Nor grass grow long above our heads and feet, 
Nor hear the happy lark that soars sky high. 
Nor sigh that spring is fleet and summer fleet, 

Nor mark the waxing wheat, 
Nor know who sits in our accustomed seat. 

Life is not good. One day it will be good 

To die, then live again ; 
To sleep meanwhile : so not to feel the wane 
Of shrunk leaves dropping in the wood. 
Nor hear the foamy lashing of the main. 
Nor mark the blackened bean-fields, nor where stood 

Rich ranks of golden grain, 
Only dead refuse stubble clothe the plain : 
Asleep from risk, asleep from pain. 



BIRD OR BEAST? 207 



BI RD OR BEAST? 

DID any bird come flying 
After Adam and Eve, 
When the door was shut against them 
And they sat down to grieve ? 

I think not Eve 's peacock 

Splendid to see, 
And I think not Adam 's eagle ; 

But a dove may be. 

Did any beast come pushing 
Through the thorny hedge 

Into the thorny, thistly world 
Out from Eden's edge ? 

I think not a lion. 

Though his strength is such ; 
But an innocent loving lamb, 

May have done as much. 

If the dove preached from her bough 
And the lamb from his sod. 

The lamb and the dove 

Were preachers sent from God. 



2o8 EVE. 



EVE. 



«T T fHILE I sit at the door, 
V V Sick to gaze within, 
Mine eye weepeth sore 
For sorrow and sin : 
As a tree my sin stands 
To darken all lands ; 
Death is the fruit it bore. 

" How have Eden bowers grown 
Without Adam to bend them ! 
How have Eden flowers blown, 
Squandering their sweet breath, 
Without me to tend them ! 
The Tree of Life was ours, 
Tree twelvefold-fruited, 
Most lofty tree that flowers. 
Most deeply rooted : 
I chose the tree of death. 

" Hadst thou but said me nay, 
Adam, my brother, 
I might have pined away ; 
I, but none other : 
God might have let thee stay 
Safe in our garden, 



EVE. 209 

By putting me away 
Beyond all pardon. 

" I, Eve, sad mother 
Of all who must live, 
I, not another, 

Plucked bitterest fruit to give 
My friend, husband, lover, — 
O wanton eyes run over ; 
Who but I should grieve ? — 
Cain hath slain his brother : 
Of all who must die mother, 
Miserable Eve ! " 

Thus she sat weeping, 
Thus Eve, our mother, 
Where one lay sleeping 
Slain by his brother. 
Greatest and least 
Each piteous beast 
To hear her voice 
Forgot his joys 
And set aside his feast. 

The mouse paused in his walk 
And dropped his wheaten stalk ; 
Grave cattle wagged their heads 
In rumination ; 
The eagle gave a cry 
From his cloud station j 



2IO EVE. 

Larks on thyme beds 

Forbore to mount or sing ; 

Bees drooped upon the wing ; 

The raven perched on high 

Forgot his ration ; 

The conies in their rock, 

A feeble nation, 

Quaked sympathetica! ; 

The mocking-bird left off to mock ; 

Huge camels knelt as if 

In deprecation ; 

The kind hart's tears were falling ; 

Chattered the wistful stork ; 

Dove-voices with a dying fall 

Cooed desolation, 

Answering grief by grief 

Only the serpent in the dust, 

Wriggling and crawling, 

Grinned an awful grin, and thrust 

His tongue out with its fork. 



GROWN AND FLOWN 211 



GROWN AND FLOWN. 

I LOVED my love from green of Spring 
Until sere Autumn's fall ; 
But now that leaves are withering 
How should one love at all ? 
One heart 's too small 
For hunger, cold, love, everything. 

I loved my love on sunny days 

Until late Summer's wane ; 
But now that frost begins to glaze 

How should one love again ? 

Nay, love and pain 
Walk wide apart in diverse ways. 

I loved my love, — alas to see 

That this should be, alas ! 
I thought that this could scarcely be, 

Yet has it come to pass : 

Sweet sweet love was. 
Now bitter bitter grown to me. 



212 A FARM WALK. 



A FARM WALK. 

THE year stood at its equinox 
And bluff the North was blowing, 
A bleat of lambs came from the flocks, 

Green hardy things were growing ; 
I met a maid with shining locks 
Where milky kine were lowing. 

She wore a kerchief on her neck, 
Her bare arm showed its dimple, 

Her apron spread without a speck, 
Her air was frank and simple. 

She milked into a wooden pail 

And sang a country ditty, 
An innocent fond lovers' tale. 

That was not wise nor witty, 
Pathetically rustical, 

Too pointless for the city. 

She kept in time without a beat 
As true as church-bell ringers, 

Unless she tapped time with her feet. 
Or squeezed it with her fingers ; 

Her clear unstudied notes were sweet 
As many a practised singer's. 



A FARM WALK. 213 

I stood a minute out of sight, 

Stood silent for a minute 
To eye the pail, and creamy white 

The frothing milk within it ; 

To eye the comely milking maid 

Herself so fresh and creamy : 
" Good day to you," at last I said ; 

She turned her head to see me : 
" Good day," she said, with lifted head ; 

Her eyes looked soft and dreamy. 

And all the while she milked and milked 

The grave cow heavy-laden : 
I 've seen grand ladies plumed and silked, 

But not a sweeter maiden ; 

But not a sweeter, fresher maid 

Than this in homely cotton. 
Whose pleasant face and silky braid 

I have not yet forgotten. 

Seven springs have passed since then, as I 

Count with a sober sorrow ; 
Seven springs have come and passed me by. 

And spring sets in to-morrow. 

I 've half a mind to shake myself 

Free just for once from London, 
To set my work upon the shelf 

And leave it done or undone ; 



214 A FARM WALK. 

To run down by the early train, 

Whirl down with shriek and whistle, 

And feel the bluff North blow again, 
And mark the sprouting thistle 

Set up on waste patch of the lane 
Its green and tender bristle, 

And spy the scarce-blown violet banks, 
Crisp primrose leaves and others, 

And watch the lambs leap at their pranks 
And butt their patient mothers. 

Alas, one point in all my plan 
My serious thoughts demur to : 

Seven years have passed for maid and man, 
Seven years have passed for her too ; 

Perhaps my rose is overblown, 

Not rosy or too rosy ; 
Perhaps in farm-house of her own 

Some husband keeps her cosey. 
Where I should show a face unknown. 

Good by, my wayside posy. 



SOMEWHERE OR OTHER. 215 



SOMEWHERE OR OTHER. 

SOMEWHERE or other there must surely be 
The face not seen, the voice not heard, 
The heart that not yet — never yet — ah me ! 
Made answer to my word. 

Somewhere or other, may be near or far ; 
Past land and sea, clean out of sight ; 
Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star 
That tracks her night by night. 

Somewhere or other, may be far or near ; 

With just a wall, a hedge, between ; 
With just the last leaves of the dying year 
Fallen on a turf grown green. 



2i6 A CHILL. 



A CHILL. 



WHAT can lambkins do 
All the keen night through ? 
Nestle by their woolly mother, 
The careful ewe. 

What can nestlings do 
In the nightly dew ? 
Sleep beneath their mother's wing 
Till day breaks anew. 

If in field or tree 
There might only be 
Such a warm soft sleeping-place 
Found for me ! 



CHILD'S TALK IN APRIL. 217 



CHILD'S TALK IN APRIL. 

I WISH you were a pleasant wren, 
And I your small accepted mate ; 
How we 'd look down on toilsome men ! 
We 'd rise and go to bed at eight 
Or it may be not quite so late. 

Then you should see the nest I 'd build, 
The wondrous nest for you and me ; 

The outside rough, perhaps, but filled 
With wool and down : ah, you should see 
The cosey nest that it would be. 

We 'd have our change of hope and fear, 
Small quarrels, reconcilements sweet : 

I 'd perch by you to chirp and cheer, 
Or hop about on active feet 
And fetch you dainty bits to eat. 

We 'd be so happy by the day. 

So safe and happy through the night. 

We both should feel, and I should say. 
It 's all one season of delight. 

And we '11 make merry whilst we may. 



2i8 CHILD'S TALK IN APRIL. 

Perhaps some day there 'd be an egg 

When spring had blossomed from the snow 

I 'd stand triumphant on one leg ; 
Like chanticleer I 'd almost crow 
To let our little neighbors know. 

Next you should sit and I would sing 
Through lengthening days of sunny spring : 

Till, if you wearied of the task, 
I 'd sit ; and you should spread your wing 

From bough to bough ; I 'd sit and bask. 

Fancy the breaking of the shell, 

The chirp, the chickens wet and bare, 

The untried proud paternal swell ; 
And you with housewife-matron air 
Enacting choicer bills of fare. 

Fancy the embryo coats of down, 
The gradual feathers soft and sleek ; 

Till clothed and strong from tail to crown, 
With virgin warblings in their beak. 
They too go forth to soar and seek. 

So would it last an April through 
And early summer fresh with dew : 

Then should we part and live as twain, 
Love-time would bring me back to you 

And build our happy nest again. 



GONE FOREVER, 219 



GONE FOREVER. 



O HAPPY rose-bud blooming 
Upon thy parent tree, — 
Nay, thou art too presuming ; 
For soon the earth entombing 
Thy faded charms shall be, 
And the chill damp consuming. 

O happy skylark springing 
Up to the broad blue sky, 

Too fearless in thy winging. 

Too gladsome in thy singing. 
Thou also soon shalt lie 

Where no sweet notes are ringing. 

And through life's shine and shower 
We shall have joy and pain ; 

But in the summer bower. 

And at the morning hour. 
We still shall look in vain 

For the same bird and flowed. 



220 UNDER THE ROSE. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 

" The iniquity of the fathers upon the children.' 

OTHE rose of keenest thorn ! 
One hidden summer morn 
Under the rose I was born. 

I do not guess his name 

Who wrought my Mother's shame, 

And gave me hfe forlorn, 

But my Mother, Mother, Mother, 

I know her from all other. 

My Mother pale and mild, 

Fair as ever was seen, 

She was but scarce sixteen. 

Little more than a child, 

When I was born 

To work her scorn. 

With secret bitter throes. 

In a passion of secret woes. 

She bore me under the rose. 

One who my Mother nursed 
Took me from the first : — 
" O nurse, let me look upon 
This babe that cost so dear ; 



UNDER THE ROSE. 221 

To-morrow she will be gone : 
Other mothers may keep 
Their babes awake and asleep, 
But I must not keep her here." — 
Whether I know or guess, 
I know this not the less. 

So I was sent away 

That none might spy the truth : 

And my childhood waxed to youth 

And I left off childish play. 

I never cared to play 

With the village boys and girls ; 

And I think they thought me proud, 

I found so little to say 

And kept so from the crowd : 

But I had the longest curls, 

And I had the largest eyes, 

And my teeth were small like pearls ; 

The girls might flout and scout me. 

But the boys would hang about me 

In sheepish mooning wise. 

Our one-street village stood 
A long mile from the town, 
A mile of windy down 
And bleak one-sided wood. 
With not a single house. 
Our town itself was small, 
With just the common shops. 
And throve in its small way. 



222 UNDER THE ROSE. 

Our neighboring gentry reared 
The good old-fashioned crops, 
And made old-fashioned boasts 
Of what John Bull would do 
If Frenchman Frog appeared, 
And drank old-fashioned toasts, 
And made old-fashioned bows 
To my Lady at the Hall. 

My Lady at the Hall 

Is grander than they all : 

Hers is the oldest name 

In all the neighborhood ; 

But the race must die with her 

Though she 's a lofty dame. 

For she 's unmarried still. 

Poor people say she 's good 

And has an open hand 

As any in the land, 

And she 's the comforter 

Of many sick and sad ; 

My nurse once said to me 

That everything she had 

Came of my Lady's bounty : 

" Though she 's greatest in the county 

She 's humble to the poor. 

No beggar seeks her door 

But finds help presently. 

I pray both night and day 

For her, and you must pray : 



UNDER THE ROSE. 223 

But she '11 never feel distress 
If needy folk can bless." 
I was a little maid 
When here we came to live 
From somewhere by the sea. 
Men spoke a foreign tongue 
There where we used to be 
When I was merry and young, 
Too young to feel afraid ; 
The fisher-folk would give 
A kind strange word to me, 
There by the foreign sea : 
I don't know where it was. 
But I remember still 
Our cottage on a hill, 
And fields of flowering grass 
On that fair foreign shore. 

I liked my old home best. 
But this was pleasant too : 
So here we made our nest 
And here I grew. 
And now and then my Lady 
In riding past our door 
Would nod to Nurse and speak, 
Or stoop and pat my cheek ; 
And I was always ready 
To hold the field-gate wide 
For my Lady to go through \ 
My Lady in her veil 



224 UNDER THE ROSE. 

So seldom put aside. 
My Lady grave and pale. 

I often sat to wonder 
Who might my parents be, 
For I knew of something under 
My simple-seeming state. 
Nurse never talked to me 
Of mother or of father, 
But watched me early and late 
With kind suspicious cares : 
Or not suspicious, rather 
Anxious, as if she knew 
Some secret I might gather 
And smart for unawares. 
Thus I grew. 

But Nurse waxed old and gray, 
Bent and weak with 3^ears. 
There came a certain day 
That she lay upon her bed 
Shaking her palsied head, 
With words she gasped to say 
Which had to stay unsaid. 
Then with a jerking hand 
Held out so piteously 
She gave a ring to me 
Of gold wrought curiously, 
A ring which she had worn 
Since the day that I was born, 



UNDER THE ROSE. 225 

She once had said to me : 
I sHpped it on my finger ; 
Her eyes were keen to Unger 
On my hand that sHpped it on ; 
Then she sighed one ratthng sigh 
And stared on with sightless eye : — 
The one who loved me was gone. 

How long I stayed alone 

With the corpse, I never knew, 

For I fainted dead as stone : 

When I came to Hfe once more 

I was down upon the floor, 

With neighbors making ado 

To bring me back to life. 

I heard the sexton's wife 

Say : " Up, my lad, and run 

To tell it at the Hall ; 

She was my Lady's nurse, 

And done can't be undone. 

I '11 watch by this poor lamb. 

I guess my Lady's purse 

Is always open to such : 

I 'd run up on my crutch 

A cripple as I am," 

(For cramps had vexed her much,) 

" Rather than this dear heart 

Lack one to take her part." 

For days, day after day, 
On my weary bed I lay, 



226 UNDER THE ROSE. 

Wishing the time would pass ; 
O, so wishing that I was 
Likely to pass away : 
For the one friend whom I knew 
Was dead, \ knew no other, 
Neither father nor mother ; 
And I, what should I do ? 

One day the sexton's wife 
Said : " Rouse yourself, my dear : 
My Lady has driven down 
From the Hall into the town, 
And we think she 's coming here. 
Cheer up, for life is hfe." 

But I would not look or speak, 
Would not cheer up at all. 
My tears were Hke to fall, 
So I turned round to the wall 
And hid my hollow cheek, 
Making as if I slept, 
As silent as a stone. 
And no one knew I wept. 
What was my Lady to me, 
The grand lady from the Hall ? 
She might come, or stay away, 
I was sick at heart that day : 
The whole world seemed to be 
Nothing, just nothing to me. 
For aught that I could see. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 2rj 

Yet I listened where I lay : 
A bustle came below, 
A clear voice said : " I know ; 
I will see her first alone, 
It may be less of a shock 
If she 's so weak to-day " : — 
A light hand turned the lock, 
A light step crossed the floor, 
One sat beside my bed : 
But never a word she said. 



For me, my shyness grew 
Each moment more and more : 
So I said never a word 
And neither looked nor stirred 
I think she must have heard 
My heart go pit-a-pat : 
Thus I lay, my Lady sat. 
More than a mortal hour — 
(I counted one and two 
By the house-clock while I lay) 
I seemed to have no power 
To think of a thing to say, 
Or do what I ought to do, 
Or rouse myself to a choice. 



At last she said : " Margaret, 
Won't you even look at me ? " 
A something in her voice 
Forced my tears to fall at last, 



228 UNDER THE ROSE. 

Forced sobs from me thick and fast j 

Something not of the past, 

Yet stirring memory ; 

A something new, and yet 

Not new, too sweet to last. 

Which I never can forget. 

I turned and stared at her : 
Her cheek showed hollow-pale ; 
Her hair like mine was fair, 
A wonderful fall of hair 
That screened her like a veil ; 
But her height was statelier, 
Her eyes had depth more deep ; 
I think they must have had 
Always a something sad. 
Unless they were asleep. 

While I stared, my Lady took 

My hand in her spare hand. 

Jewelled and soft and grand. 

And looked with a long long look 

Of hunger in my face ; 

As if she tried to trace 

Features she ought to know. 

And half hoped, half feared, to find. 

Whatever was in her mind 

She heaved a sigh at last, 

And began to talk to me. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 229 

" Your nurse was my dear nurse, 

And her nursling's dear," said she : 

" I never knew that she was worse 

Till her poor life was past " 

(Here my Lady's tears dropped fast) : 

" I might have been with her. 

But she had no comforter. 

She might have told me much 

Which now I shall never know, 

Never, never shall know." 

She sat by me sobbing so. 

And seemed so woe-begone, 

That I laid one hand upon 

Hers with a timid touch, 

Scarce thinking what I did, 

Not knowing what to say : 

That moment her face was hid 

In the pillow close by mine, 

Her arm was flung over me, 

She hugged me, sobbing so 

As if her heart would break, 

And kissed me where I lay. 

After this she often came 
To bring me fruit or wine, 
Or sometimes h'othouse flowers. 
And at nights I lay awake 
Often and often thinking 
What to do for her sake. 
Wet or dry it was the same : 



230 UNDER THE ROSE. 

She would come in at all hours, 
Set me eating and drinking, 
And say I must grow strong ; 
At last the day seemed long 
And home seemed scarcely home 
If she did not come. 

Well, I grew strong again : 

In time of primroses, 

I went to pluck them in the lane ; 

In time of nestling birds, 

I heard them chirping round the house ; 

And all the herds 

Were out at grass when I grew strong, 

And days were waxen long, 

And there was work for bees 

Among the May-busli boughs, 

And I had shot up tall, 

And life felt after all 

Pleasant, and not so long 

When I grew strong. 

I was going to the Hall 

To be my Lady's maid : 

" Her little friend," she said to me, 

"Almost her child," 

She said and smiled 

Sighing painfully ; 

Blushing, with a second flush. 

As if she blushed to blush. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 231 

Friend, servant, child : just this 

My standing at the Hall ; 

The other servants call me " Miss," 

My Lady calls me " Margaret," 

With her clear voice musical. 

She never chides when I forget 

This or that ; she never chides. 

Except when people come to stay, 

(And that 's not often) at the Hall, 

I sit with her all day 

And ride out when she rides. 

She sings to me and makes me sing ; 

Sometimes I read to her, 

Sometimes we merely sit and talk. 

She noticed once my ring 

And made me tell its history : 

That evening in our garden walk 

She said she should infer 

The ring had been my father's first, 

,Then my mother's, given for me 

To the nurse who nursed 

My mother in her misery, 

That so quite certainly 

Some one might know me, who .... 

Then she was silent, and I too. 

I hate when people come : 
The women speak and stare 
And mean to be so civil. 
This one will stroke my hair, 



233 UNDER THE ROSE. 

That one will pat my cheek 

And praise my Lady's kindness, 

Expecting me to speak ; 

I like the proud ones best 

Who sit as struck with blindness, 

As if I was n't there. 

But if any gentleman 

Is staying at the Hall 

(Though few come prying here). 

My Lady seems to fear 

Some downright dreadful evil, 

And makes me keep my room 

As closely as she can : 

So I hate when people come, 

It is so troublesome. 

■ 

In spite of all her care, 
Sometimes to keep alive 
I sometimes do contrive 
To get out in the grounds 
For a whiff of wholesome air. 
Under the rose you know : 
It 's charming to break bounds, 
Stolen waters are sweet, 
And what 's the good of feet 
If for days they must n't go ? 
Give me a longer tether, 
Or I may break from it. 

Now I have eyes and ears 
And just some little wit : 



UNDER THE ROSE. 233 

" Almost my lady's child " ; 
I recollect she smiled, 
Sighed and blushed together ; 
Then her story of the ring 
Sounds not improbable, 
She told it me so well 
It seemed the actual thing : — 

keep your counsel close. 
But I guess under the rose. 
In long past summer weather 
When the world was blossoming, 
And the rose upon its thorn : 

1 guess not who he was 
Flawed honor like a glass 
And made my life forlorn. 

But my Mother, Mother, Mother, 
O, I know her from all other. 

My Lady, you might trust 
Your daughter with your fame. 
Trust me, I would not shame 
Our honorable name, 
For Ihave noble blood 
Though I was bred in dust 
And brought up in the mud. 
I will not press my claim, 
Just leave me where you will : 
But you might trust your daughter, 
For blood is thicker than water 
And you 're my mother still. 



234 UNDER THE ROSE. 

So my Lady holds her own 
With condescending grace, 
And fills her lofty place 
With an untroubled face 
As a queen may fill a throne. 
While I could hint a tale — 
(But then I am her child) — 
Would make her quail ; 
Would set her in the dust, 
Lorn with no comforter, 
Her glorious hair defiled 
And ashes on her cheek : 
The decent world would thrust 
Its finger out at her, 
Not much displeased I think 
To make a nine days' stir ; 
The decent world would sink 
Its voice to speak of her. 

Now this is what I mean 
To do, no more, no less : 
Never to speak, or show 
Bare sign of what I know. 
Let the blot pass unseen ; 
Yea, let her never guess 
I hold the tangled clew 
She huddles out of view. 
Friend, servant, almost child, 
So be it and nothing more 
On this side of the grave. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 235 

Mother, in Paradise, 

You '11 see with clearer eyes ; 

Perhaps in this world even 

When you are like to die 

And face to face with Heaven 

You '11 drop for once the lie : 

But you must drop the mask, not I. 

My Lady promises 
Two hundred pounds with me 
Whenever I may wed 
A man she can approve : 
And since besides her bounty 
I 'm fairest in the county 
(For so I 've heard it said. 
Though I don't vouch for this), 
Her promised pounds may move 
Some honest man to see 
My virtues and my beauties ; 
Perhaps the rising grazier, 
Or temperance publican, 
May claim my wifely duties. 
Meanwhile I wait their leisure 
And grace-bestowing pleasure, 
I wait the happy man ; 
But if I hold my head 
And pitch my expectations 
Just higher than their level, 
They must fall back on patience : 
I may not mean to wed. 
Yet I '11 be civil. 



536 UNDER THE ROSE. 

Now sometimes in a dream 
My heart goes out of me 
To build and scheme, 
Till I sob after things that seem 
So pleasant in a dream : 
A home such as I see 
My blessed neighbors live in 
AVith father and with mother, 
All proud of one another, 
Named by one common name, 
From baby in the bud 
To full-blown workman father ; 
It 's little short of Heaven. 
I 'd give my gentle blood 
To wash my special shame 
And drown my private grudge ; 
I -d toil and moil much rather 
The dingiest cottage drudge 
Whose mother need not blush. 
Than live here like a lady 
And see my IMother flush 
And hear her voice unsteady 
Sometimes, yet never dare 
Ask to share her care. 

Of course the ser\'ants sneer 
Behind my back at me ; 
Of course the village girls, 
Who eniy me my curls 
And gowns and idleness, 



UNDER THE ROSE. 237 

Take comfort in a jeer; 
Of course the ladies guess 
Just so much of my history 
As points the emphatic stress 
With which they laud my Lady ; 
The gentlemen who catch 
A casual glimpse of me 
And turn again to s,ee, 
Their valets on the watch 
To speak a word with me, 
All know and sting me wild j 
Till I am almost ready 
To wish that I were dead, 
No faces more to see, 
No more words to be said, 
My Mother safe at last 
Disburdened of her child, 
And the past past. 

" All equal before God," — 
Our Rector has it so, 
And sundry sleepers nod : 
It may be so ; I know 
All are not equal here. 
And when the sleepers wake 
They make a difference. 
" All equal in the grave," — 
That shows an obvious sense : 
Yet something which I crave 
Not death itself brings near ; 



238 UNDER THE ROSE. 

How should death half atone 
For all my past ; or make 
The name I bear my own ? 

I love my dear old Nurse 
Who loved me without gains ; 
I love my mistress even, 
Friend, Mother, what you will : 
But I could almost curse 
My Father for his pains ; 
And sometimes at my prayer, 
Kneeling in sight of Heaven, 
I almost curse him still : 
Why did he set his snare 
To catch at unaware 
My Mother's foolish youth ; 
Load me with shame that 's hers, 
And her with something worse, 
A lifelong lie for truth ? 

I think my mind is fixed 
On one point and made up ; 
To accept my lot unmixed ; 
Never to drug the cup 
But drink it by myself. 
I '11 not be wooed for pelf; 
I'll not blot out my shame 
With any good man 's name ; 
But nameless as I stand. 
My hand is my own hand, 



UNDER THE ROSE. 239 

And nameless as I came 
I go to the dark land. 

" All equal in the grave," — 
I bide my time till then : 
" All equal before God," — 
To-day I feel His rod. 
To-morrow He may save : 
Amen. 



DEVOTIONAL PIECES. 



DESPISED AND REJECTED. 



MY sun has set, I dwell 
In darkness as a dead man out of sight ; 
And none remains, not one, that I should tell 
To him mine evil plight 
This bitter night. 
I will make fast my door 
That hollow friends may trouble me no more. 

"Friend, open to Me." — Who is this that calls? 

Nay, I am deaf as are my walls : 

Cease crying, for I will not hear 

Thy cry of hope or fear. 

Others were dear, 

Others forsook me : what art thou indeed 

That I should heed 

Thy lamentable need ? 

Hungry should feed, 

Or stranger lodge thee here ? 

" Friend, My Feet bleed. 

Open thy door to Me and comfort Me." 



244 DESPISED AND REJECTED. 

I will not open, trouble me no more. 

Go on thy way footsore, 

I will not rise and open unto thee. 

" Then is it nothing to thee ? Open, see 

Who stands to plead with thee. 

Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou 

One day entreat My Face 

And howl for grace. 

And I be deaf as thou art now. 

Open to Me." 

Then I cried out upon him : Cease, 

Leave me in peace : 

Fear not that I should crave 

Aught thou may St have. 

Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more, 

Lest I arise and chase thee from my door. 

What, shall I not be let 

Alone, that thou dost vex me yet ? 

But all night long that voice spake urgently : 

" Open to Me." 

Still harping in mine ears : 

" Rise, let Me in." 

Pleading with tears : 

" Open to Me that I may come to thee." 

While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were 

cold : 
" My Feet bleed, see My Face, 



LONG BARREN. 245 

See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace, 
My Heart doth bleed for thee, 
Open to Me." 

So till the break of day : 

Then died away 

That voice, in silence as of sorrow ; 

Then footsteps echoing like a sigh 

Passed me by, 

Lingering footsteps slow to pass. 

On the morrow 

I saw upon the grass 

Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door 

The mark of blood forevermore. 



LONG BARREN. 

THOU who didst hang upon a barren tree, 
My God, for me ; 
Though I till now be barren, now at length, 
Lord, give me strength 
To bring forth fruit to Thee. 

Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, 
Spitting and scorn ; 

Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now 

Strengthen me Thou 
That better fruit be borne. 



246 IF ONLY. 

Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, 
Vine of sweet fruits, 

Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, 

Of thousands Chief, 
Feed Thou my feeble shoots. 



IF ONLY. 

IF I might only love my God and die ! 
But now He bids me love Him and live on. 
Now when the bloom of all my life is gone. 
The pleasant half of life has quite gone by. 
My tree of hope is lopped that spread so high. 
And I forget how summer glowed and shone, 
While autumn grips me with its fingers wan. 
And frets me with its fitful windy sigh. 
When autumn passes then must winter numb, 
And winter may not pass a weary while, 

But when it passes spring shall flower again : 
And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile, 
Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane. 
Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come. 



DOST THOU NOT CARE 



DOST THOU NOT CARE? 

I LOVE and love not : Lord, it breaks my heart 
To love and not to love. 
Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart 

Into Thy shrine, which is above, 
Dost Thou not love me. Lord, or care 

For this mine ill ? — 
/ love thee here or there, 

I will accept thy broken heart, lie still. 

Lord, it was well with me in time gone by 

That cometh not again. 
When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I ? 

I fresh, I cheerful : worn with pain 
Now, out of sight and out of heart ; 

Lord, how long ? — 
/ watch thee as thou art, 

1 will accept thy fainting heart, be strong. 

" Lie still," "be strong," to-day ; but. Lord, to-morrow, 

What of to-morrow. Lord ? 
Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, 

Be living green upon the sward 
Now but a barren grave to me. 

Be joy for sorrow ? — 
Did I not die for thee ? 

Do I not live for thee ? leave Me to-mori'ow. 



248 WEARY IN WELL-DOING. 



WEARY IN WELL-DOING. 



I WOULD have gone ; God bade me stay : 
I would have worked ; God bade me rest. 
He broke my will from day to day, 
He read my yearnings unexpressed, 
And said them nay. 

Now I would stay ; God bids me go : 
Now I would rest ; God bids me work? 

He breaks my heart tossed to and fro, 
My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk 
And vex it so. 

I go. Lord, where Thou sendest me ; 

Day after day I plod and moil : 
But, Christ my God, when will it be 

That I may let alone my toil 
And rest with Thee ? 



